Two Strangers
by Vana E
Summary: A young man is pulled into Middle Earth and from there on, it's a downward spiral into mental oblivion. Full AN and Summery inside AU, NonMS or romance. Angsty, Dedicated to my father, 26.2.1926 to 23.10.2004.
1. The Visit

**Authors Note:** A drop into Middle Earth fiction piece *winks* but trust me to say that if this were a Mary Sue, I would rather shoot myself than be part of such an embarrassing and completely damaging venture. Just because I have included a minor female character in a story does not mean it is a Mary Sue. *stares at all readers straight in the eye* Now look at me…me Vana, loyal supporter to Anti Mary-Sue Legomances and wars against said girls with perfect hair, purple eyes and glowing skin…the fact they can fight with ease and are much better than any elf. Now as I say this, do you really think I would dare do such a thing? I have a Mary Sue story, I do…it is tucked away on my hard drive and no one is allowed to see it…or do you dare me to *squints at you*…thought not. Anyway…these people said in here are real, my two OC's are actually two good friends of mine of whom the girl is actually a martial arts Blue Belt. And she is damned good so there is no Mary Sue stuff ok, unless you want to insult her intelligence. This authors note I place here after getting some bad responses from ff.net …this is because I was becoming discouraged and was getting the inkling that people merely read the first word and labelled it 'Mary Sue'. As I say again…she is minor…the main character is a MAN for crying out loud…and I'll be damned…I have actually been told by a flippen EXPERT that he is no Marty Stu…in fact the whole story has been given the thumbs up by quite a few professional fanfic authors *is a bit chuffed* and I have been reassured that though I do need to work on a few literary factors…there is no risk of MS anywhere here *holds up the cyanide pill* I swear, I would rather die horribly than write one. The only romance I have ever written is Slash…got that...Slash. I'm too scared to write a Legomance…*shudders* far too risky for self-insertion. And I'll tell ye all something else…I have a great respect for book Legolas and Orlando Bloom, am no longer the screaming fangirl I once was *shudders yet again* and I vow never to insult either Tolkien's creations or the young man himself. *wipes brow* Now, after that quite lengthy A/N…I hope you all get the idea and I might get a bit more respect as I have a feeling that the open rejection and several flames coming through the mail have been part of the cause for my emotional turmoil lately.   
Ok…be well, live life…don't crash (a Vana saying)  
**Disclaimer:** I make a vow right now…to never own any of the great Tolkien's creations nor his world and ideas. I do not own anything apart from obvious OC's, inserted objects and all AU events. *bows respectfully* I say this is as a loyal Tolkienist and Scholar in Training…and I mean it.  
**Summery:** The adventure begins at the 3rd chapter…but to put it as bluntly as possible…he drops into Middle Earth. *stops and stares, saying nothing more and forcing people to read to know anything else*. This is AU in some places, Avon is also the name of a beauty company in Australia who's lingo is "Ding Dong, Avon calling"…and the fact that Mel and I used to be Avon sales-persons ourselves did not help the matter as the boy Avon always got the brunt of the joke…poor guy, but he always laughed so it was good. This is Bookverse, the small mentions of the movie are so small they are almost invisible. (I actually have a few of the objects described here so there is no pun).

Very well…on with the story.

* ~ * ~ * ~* 

**CHAP 1: _The Visit_**  
She was upset again, it was obvious to no one but him, and that was only because he had known her for over 10 years. She looked a bit lost, standing there with the sign, his name plastered over it and he laughed inwardly, wondering how many people had come up and asked her what exactly did she mean by it. His name was not that strange when he was born, the other meaning hadn't even been invented yet, but as he grew, it became his curse. His past was not necessarily a dark one, just not a light one either, and they both shared it.

He plonked his heavy case on the ground and stood merely meters away from her, waiting to see whether she would see him amongst the crush of people about them. He hated airports; they were on his 'Most Likely To Sue' list, next to airplane food, having to sit next to triplet toddlers and 13 hours flights. She had been convincing enough, pleading with him for endless weeks, months and years to simply come over and pay her a visit. It was his studies, always his studies. They had seemed so important until now, but as they were circling over the patchwork quilt of the flat landscape below, he realized just what he had been missing. 

He hitched his backpack on his shoulder, waiting for some sign of recognition as her eyes travelled over to him. They locked eyes, simply staring each other in a silent battle of strength. This was an old game, they used to play it when they were younger, so many years ago and it had always ended with them collapsing on the floor in laughter, their friends looking on in bemusement. His eyes took in the clothing she wore, perfect for winter as it was cold enough for that over here, even though it was only early autumn. He shuddered a little at the thought it would get even colder within a week. Her thick downy jacket hung open to reveal a black turtle neck sweater, a casual pair of blue jeans and hiking boots basically completed the look and he tried hard to keep his mouth from dropping open in disbelief. She was so slim, it was incredible, the point she had been making all this time in her letters about having no car so she had to bike-ride, and getting fit for backpacking, seemed to be plastered in front of him. He thought it to be a joke, he knew she had been fit before leaving, that was for sure as they used to wrestle, but she always had carried extra weight. She never seemed to be able to drop it and had always joked about size 16s having all the luck.

Himself? He was a stick, always had been, and always would be.

The silent battle of their eyes suddenly melted as her voice screeched over every other in the humongous hall, the lost look disappearing in seconds. 

"AVON!!" He cringed a little but laughed as she dropped the sign, dashed under the rope separating them and literally jumped on him, grabbing him in a tight hug that he was sure would suffocate him if nothing were done.

"Hi Mel!" He said, loosing her hold around his neck. She did so readily and scowled.

"You don't see me for 6 years and all you can say is 'Hi Mel'? 

He nodded and she grinned again.

"I've missed you so much." She hugged him again before reaching down to his case.

"No! I can…" He trailed off as she easily lifted it with one hand and literally skipped down towards the exit. He stood still for a moment, a little stunned before she turned around and waved to him.

"Come one! You'll get lost in here otherwise, they say there are more than 50 different exits." She grinned as he struggled to catch up, trying not to push too many people in his haste. He finally joined her and they walked together, chatting gaily about anything that came to mind, as they used to.

"Sooo, how do you like it here?" A feeble excuse for a convo starter, but Avon didn't have much of a clue as to how to start a conversation; Mel had been doing all the talking up until now.

"You know I love it, I wrote all the time." She was acting again, the pout was so convincing he had to stop in order to laugh without falling.

"I KNOW that, but I still don't know how much you like it here, and why, face to face." He calmed down a little and proceeded to walk alongside her again. She grinned as they reached the sliding doors.

"This is why." She pushed him in front of her and the doors opened, letting a bone-freezing gust of wind pour around him.

"Holy…Oh my go…shi…" He couldn't form any words; he had never felt this cold in a freezer. He turned around to make a dash back into the relative warmth of the airport but was stopped by a very firm hand.

"Nah ah, we gotta catch a train buddy." She pointed behind him and he turned slowly, teeth chattering and hands tucked firmly into the pockets of his jacket that he draped over his arm before, and was now inadequately covering him. A small shuttle bus stood in the bus zone, waiting to pick up people like them and take them either to another bus port, or to the central train station.

Avon simply nodded and ran, making it to the doors long before his friend and was about to hop on, when a kindly young man held out his hand and stopped him, smiling.

"Heb je een kaartje?"

Avon simply stared in shock.

"I, umm…What?"

"Oh, you from England!" The man grinned wider, happy to show off his English skills.

"No, no I'm from Australia." Avon was a little flabbergasted, Mel had warned him about this and even though he had tried to learn Dutch from his last girlfriend, it just was not coming to him easily enough.

"Oh Australie, it is very hot there sometimes?"

Avon nodded; he kinda liked this guy, even if the biting wind made him want to stand in a fire. The driver seemed to be totally unaffected by it.

"Yeah, er…Ik have…umm…en probleem wit de koud." He stammered, trying to dredge up some knowledge of this impossible language.

"Yes, it is a bit cold. But you'll get used to it, promise." Avon turned and saw that Mel had caught up with him and was now handing the driver a few coins, she motioned for him to come forward.

"Show your flight ticket and you get a discount." She whispered, picking up the case once more and handing him some money.

He did as she asked, thanked the driver and boarded the bus, flopping down next to her in exasperation.

"You came here for the winters?" He looked at her in disbelief as she nodded.

"Of course, you know how bad I was with the heat, and anyway, I like snow." She gave him 'The Look' and he shut up, saying nothing more on the situation as the bus rumbled to life and took them to their destination.

* * * *

"Double decker?" Avon stared in awe at the train, the lower windows were large and square, taking up most of the height. But along the top there were wide, short windows that presented the fact that there was another level to the electric beast.

"Yeah, but you gotta pay extra to go up there. Maybe next time." Mel grunted a little as she pulled the case behind her, Avon had enough.

"Look, I'll take it. You don't have to show me how strong you are, I think I've still got some bruises from last time." He snatched it away from her and she grinned up at him, her grey/green eyes sparkling with the memory.

They had dated once for about a month, but it hadn't deterred them from having the occasional wrestle. One had resulted in him laying in a crumpled heap in the small space between the wall and couch as they played 'Pod Racer'. It had hurt but all was forgiven when he was showered with kisses and apologies, she had promised never to do it again, 3 minutes later he was on the floor once more in even more pain.

He frowned, they had definitely had real chemistry back then, but it had dissipated into friendship again, at least for him. He knew she had harboured feelings for him, but the gem that now had a place on her finger said otherwise.

A promise ring.

"So, how long till we get there?" he asked as they settled down into the chairs, facing each other across the small gap between them and casually chucking bags and coats on the empty spaces.

"About an hour, you can sleep for a bit, you've been zoning again." She smiled and he laughed back, zoning had always been his and her specialty and they took special pride in it.

Somehow they had so much in common, and yet they were still a little distant. The time apart had taken a toll on their friendship and he wondered if they could rekindle the little spark that made it all worthwhile.

It seemed only moments later when he was roughly shaken.

"Wake up. We gotta go." He stood up abruptly, banging his head on the steel mash of the baggage tray and flopping down again, groaning into his hands.

"I said 'wake up', not 'knock yourself out'." Mel grinned with a bit of pity in her eyes as she helped him up again. He rubbed the top of his head lightly and grimaced.

"Yeah whatever." He looked up and peered out the frosty window. "We there?"

She nodded, very excited and he couldn't figure out why until he was dragged out of the train by his elbow, she had hold of his case yet again and he was left with the small travellers backpack. He stood on the platform for a moment, trying to gather his wits when a large shout came from one side of him.

"AVON!!" He gasped and trained his eyes on the huddled mass of humanity gathered a few meters away, they held a long banner and on it read:

'Welkom in Nederland Avon'

He looked down at his friend and gave her one of his worst evils. She shied away for a moment before the recognizable grin spread over her face.

"Welcome to my family!" She waved her hand over the group which then converged on the two, nearly crushing him in their midst as questions poured over him and hasty introductions were made.

"That's Jean-Pierre, his mum Henny, Jan, Jan and Jan…" She pointed to three different men and went onward. His head whirled, he knew of the fact that the Dutch side of her valued the name John as though it was irreplaceable, and it was far too confusing for him.

"…Jaque, Tante (_Aunty) Matina..." She pointed to her small, old red-head aunt who's face lit up as she shook his hand vigorously, speaking in her halting English._

"…Marjan, Pieter, Ans, Krÿstle, Jos, Rÿnika, Hans, Bep and Hank…" She continued, by this time his arm felt like it would drop off, his cheeks itched from the traditional 3 kisses and his head felt like it would explode with all the information. So far the Dutch pronunciation of the Johns and her Aunty were the only things staying in his memory bank, everything else flew out the other ear to make room for more.

Finally she ceased and grinned once more.

"Iedereen! Dit is Avon."

He groaned, understanding the words perfectly. As if they didn't know already who he was, but she was only fooling and the small laugh that rippled through the 20 odd people standing there lifted his spirits considerably. They were VERY happy to finally meet him.

But then his smile faltered, where was her father? He looked down again and she read his thoughts.

"He's sick."

His mouth formed an O and he was hurried along once more, the relatives pushing him from each side, each one trying to gather him into a convo which was impossible. Their accents were just too thick to hear all at once.

Finally he was herded into a car, Mel hopped in next to him and her Aunt took the wheel. Avon was a little worried, from what he'd heard about her, it was not the driving that was important, just the 'looking good' part and he braced himself for a very hazardous ride.

* * * *

He gaped at his surroundings, seeing it truly for the first time. Mel said goodbye to the last family member (or was it another neighbour) and closed the door, the click was heard down the hall and in the living room in which Avon was standing in that very moment.

Stunned, it was the feeling of paralysis that was stopping him from even speaking about the sight. Surely she couldn't have been THIS involved?

Mel walked up and stood next to him for a moment, admiring it all with her own eyes as if she never tired of it, which was probably true.

The bookcase was filled to overflowing with fantasy and sci-fi books, mostly though were of Tolkien and untouched collectibles. There was solid oak furniture everywhere in the smallish space, from cupboards and side tables, to couches and decorative beams on the ceiling. Soft filmy blue curtains hung on the bay window and a two display cabinets stood on either side, both containing miniature helms, busts and fine jewellery set up on stands and back boards. In one case a whole shelf was devoted to a lone statuette, standing about 30cm high, the stance unmistakable of a blond elf with his bow drawn loosely and eyes piercing out at the room. She had told him about that one two years ago and hadn't shut up about it for ages, he couldn't see why. The guy who had played him was in his thirties now, getting old and was taken, for the third time by his last count. Who was he? Oh yes, Orlando…flowery name something.

The walls, though, held his eyes the most. She had somehow painstakingly painted in fine, flowing script, the elvish writing she so adored. It ran in a long strip on the wall around the entire room, along the skirting board near the ceiling. She had painted the skirting brown and had made it seem as though it were old wood, the writing was then done in golden gilt. It was beautiful, especially with the touches of flowers and vines creeping through the design. Even a butterfly made its appearance, suspended in motion forever.

Then of course were the VERY obvious things. Framed photo of…oh yeah, Orlando BLOOM and his autograph. Same with Elijah Wood and…hmm, Viggo Mortensen. There was also one of Cate; she had even added a little message… "To Mel, best of luck with your future career. I hope to see your work on the shelves very soon. Cate Blanchet".

A stand with rolled up posters wrapped in plastic stood directly beneath them, her prized Lord Of The Rings posters that she only took out to look at once in a while. A jar holding a rock, a piece of the set that she called "a chunk of Middle Earth" was on the window sill and above that to the right on the wall, her most prized possession, though he still didn't get it.

The golden band had somehow been mounted behind glass in front of a black velvet background, seeming as though it was suspended in mid air. It was cleverly done and he wondered how she was able to get the money for it all. She even had the deed for the mould for a pair of elven ears; it was shaped so it could even fit her if she got the consistency of the gelatinous substance right. She was still, as she had been the last 7 years, the biggest Tolkien fanatic he had ever known.

"So, what do you think? Was it as you expected?" She smiled and turned away, making her way to an archway that led to the small kitchen.

"Um, not really. I thought you had Gandalf himself here, you know, looking after you and all." He grinned and ducked as a cushion sailed over his head and hit the wall harmlessly.

"Oh you." She laughed and he followed her into the kitchen, stopping at the arch and waiting for the inevitable.

"Ding dong." He sang.

"Avon calling." She answered and they laughed again, it had been ages but the old joke was worth it.

He leaned against the arch and watched her passively as she prepared dinner, taking in her appearance once more. Without the jacket she looked even slimmer, almost boyish. Her short, cropped, copper hair emphasized her long, swanlike neck and the gentle curve of her spine. As she leaned over, her necklace hung loose and the mock golden ring dangled over air, the inscription decidedly faded from years of wear. From what he had heard, she never left the house without it round her neck, like a lucky charm or something. 

She wore a red tight top with a modest neckline, he didn't expect anything less as she was very conscious of the "modesty" expected of her, she had never even worn hipsters.

"Ah crud." He tried not to smile as she dropped the packet of mince on the floor, was she expecting to have a feast of only two people? She stood for a moment, staring at it with a contemplative expression; finally she looked up at him.

"Frites?" He had no idea what she just said and she smiled.

"Chips, would you like to go out and get chips?" He nodded his head in agreement, and she cleaned up a bit before running back down the hall to grab her coat once more. Avon shook his head as he pulled on his shoes (she had forbidden anyone to wear them in the living room), would he ever get a handle of the country? If he was staying for a month, he'd better get a grip, and fast.

The cold air hit him once more and they walked out into the night, chatting again about menial things and food, like how much they would get, who can eat the fastest, who can eat the most…it continued. Just like the old days.  
  
  
Tbc…  
  
  
  
**A/N:** Tante is Dutch for Aunty, Jan is the Dutch spelling for John and frites is actually a Dutch way of presenting chips, it has mayo sauce on the side (non-salad dressing mayo…this stuff is creamy and soft and smooth) and for me it is heaven to eat. He he...er…I think that is about it. Review please…I really need some new reviews and maybe check out some of my other stories on ff.net? *hopeful look*. Ta ta.


	2. The Fair

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**Authors Note:** This and most of the following chapters up until 15 have been rehashed. Details have been added, grammar corrected and as I will probably never have a beta-reader, this is all done according to what I felt was wrong and has no other outside influence. The Brunnen G mentioned in this chapter are part of a television sci-fi series called Lex, the song is real. See more in authors note below.

**Summery:** A young man is pulled into Middle Earth, and from there on it's a downward spiral.

**Chapter Summery: **A trip to the local fair starts the beginning of chaos.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

**CHAP 2:_ The Fair_**

"Why do I get myself talked into these things?" He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and gazing at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His small goatee was neatly trimmed (he didn't have one when she left, which was possibly why it took her so long to recognize him), his brown spiky hair look fine, but his clothes just made every other good thing about him go down the drain.

The dark green cloak and hood hung behind his shoulders, revealing the heavy clothes of mainly blues and dark browns. The tunic fitted around him as though someone had checked his size and matched it perfectly, no doubt they had. Damn Mel. The clasps ran down from his neck to his waist and the belt around it tucked it in closely so the chain mail beneath wouldn't flop around. The pants were loose and slightly baggy, they tucked into high leather boots that ran up nearly to his knees, strips of leather bound the boots closed to make it more authentic, without modern laces. He even had bracers with intricate designs on them and a scabbard hung at his waist, waiting for the sword that he KNEW Mel had.

How could he let her talk him into this? He had more clothing underneath, like a handmade chemise, covered by a brown leather jerkin and a painstakingly handmade long sleeved, mail shirt that hung past his hips, just poking out from beneath the tunic. But at least he'd be warm, he thought as he tugged at the collar, trying to prevent it from choking him. He'd have to get Mel to adjust it before they left.

On cue, the girl in question walked through the open door and twirled around.

"How do I look?" He turned and gaped at her appearance, surely she was going to wear a dress or something, but not this.

She wore the same type of boots and pants he did, but they were dark red, while his were brown. The loose, white shirt was tucked into the pants and she was currently fumbling with what looked like a leather waistcoat. He watched in awe as she completed the complicated clasps and shrugged on the top half of the tunic.

"Why do I get the metal and you don't?" He pointed to his own mail and she grinned, folding the flap of the garment around her and buttoning the top half, before grabbing the belt she had hung over the towel railing and pulling the rest closed about her small waist.

"Because you're the sword fighting soldier, and I'm the archer." She looked up from her ministrations on the tunic and smiled. "I just need the leather."

She straightened up and questioned him with her eyes; she looked like a friggen man.

"You look…er…good. Why are we doing this again?" He hooked his thumbs into the belt and leaned against the wall, the clinking of the chain mail was quite distinctive.

She sighed in exasperation. "Coz I do it every year, and this time I have company." It seemed logical enough to her and she spun around on her heel, leaving a defeated Avon to ponder over his embarrassment as soon as he left the house.

He could shoot a bow…ok. He had been taking lessons on her advice over the last few years in that, as well as basic sword fighting with the Renaissance Club (that too was by a certain persisting female). But he didn't really know the reason behind it all until now; she had been getting him all tendered up for the Medieval Fair they held every year. 

He flexed his arms for a bit and stretched, trying to get a feel for the heaviness that hung from his shoulders. He still needed to attach the shoulder guards but that would need help, so he picked them up and made his way to the living room, hopping a bit to see how well he could move.

When he reached the lounge room it was the second time he would be in shock within 5 minutes. Mel was twirling a long thick staff in her fingers as though it were the easiest thing in the world; of course it was when you've been doing Tae Kwon Do as long as she had. It's not like a person could do this automatically. He was only blue belt and she had been doing it for nearly as long as he'd known her, possibly the reason why she won most of the wrestles. The furniture had been sensibly moved closer to the walls in order to give more space. She was practicing for some things she was expected to do at the fair and was trying to make the movements more medieval, less oriental.

"That looks great." She stopped, a little startled, then smiled at his presence.

"You can do it too you know." He shrugged at the comment.

"Yeah, but not as good as that."

"You think?" He didn't have much time to react as she chucked the pole to him and he grabbed it out of reflex. Hmm, good weight, he thought as he twirled it experimentally, making sure he was away from the walls and other breakable items. The whole point of learning how to twirl the pole was mostly for show, to distract the other opponent before taking them by surprise in a simple three part move that very rarely still involved the pole as it was usually discarded at the point of the manoeuvre. His eyes then fell on some objects on the couch, he groaned.

"Are those what I think they are?" She smiled again, a little too sweetly.

"Of course, we don't want you to go to battle without any protection." She reached down and unwrapped the cloth that enveloped the long sword.

"This isn't the one I was telling you about, that's just a recreation of a movie prop. This is the real deal, got it made 'bout three years ago, thought I'd leave it for a surprise." She handed it to him.

"Impressive." Avon lifted it and checked the edge. "Hey! It's sharp."

She laughed. "Of course it's sharp. I got the real thing, this baby can be used in real fights and it won't break." She lowered her head and peered up through her eyelashes, giving a very sinister impression. "It's deadly."

"Really? I think I'm getting a taste for all this. Are you sure you're even allowed this at the fair?" He swished it through the air it experimentally. It was the perfect weight and he wondered if he could buy it off her and smuggle it through customs. The club would love it.

"Yeah. They give staff allowances…the rest have to use those hard foam ones though." She motioned to her own foam live role-play sword propped up the corner. "But as long as we keep this things sheathed, we're dandy." She giggled and handed him a couple of other items. "This is your boot knife, you gotta have it or it doesn't complete the effect. And the pouch holds the stone and oil for the blade, all warriors carry it, the sword must be taken care of." He put the staff and sword down, taking the other objects uncertainly, she was severely caught up in the whole thing and he wondered if it was because she needed to escape reality, there were many valid reasons why.

Even though always acted so cheery, she was also always upset. Mel hid it so well though that only those who knew how to read her could decipher what was going on with her emotional state of mind. Like himself.

Somehow she had taken the realm of fantasy to a new dimension, almost living it as he had discovered with her unpublished stories and memoirs that she had sent to him. She had the career she wanted, she had the life she wanted, but there was still something missing that she was always trying to grasp, an illusive something she was trying to capture.

"Aaaavoooon." He blinked, Mel's face broke out into a grin. "You were zoning again."

He smiled back and they continued to get ready, wrapping sharp objects back in their protective cloths and tucking others into their clothing. As Avon tied the small pouch that held the 'sword care products' to his belt, he remembered something.

"How are we getting there?" The response was not one he wanted to hear.

"Your choice. Bike or bus?"

* * * *

The grounds were covered in pavilions, old-fashioned war tents and horse enclosures. They hadn't skimped on the detail and Avon couldn't help but marvel at everything he saw, despite the bitter memory of his recent embarrassment.

He had realized straight away that there was too much gear to take on a bike, even if they used their neighbour's trolley which could be attached to the back of one of their bikes. So, of course, the bus was opted and he could still feel the pang of mortal fear as it pulled up, and they hopped on.

Mel carried her staff and bow as though it were a bag of simple shopping, the quiver she had strapped on her back hung off one arm, as she couldn't sit down with it on. Himself, he hugged the wrapped sword close to him, hoping no one was freaked out by it and pushed the knife in his boot further down with his other foot. Actually, he was quite surprised the bus driver even let them on, they looked fit to kill, literally, and he simply nodded and smiled, not really caring as though he saw it everyday.

The cloaks covered their costumes well enough, but his clinking mail got many inquisitive stares in their general direction. Why hadn't they stormed them with questions? It was as if the whole town didn't really care if an elephant walked down the street on his back legs with a tutu, it was just another day.

When he got there though, he found out why.

There was a huge, really old castle surrounded by a moat…yes, a moat, and huge trees towering over them on the shore. A gravel path ran round the outside of the moat and along it were old stalls, like the markets 4…5…600 years ago. Behind them was the grassy area where many "civilians" stood and watched small performances by people dressed like him and Mel. Civilians, meaning they were simply passers by who didn't bother dressing to suit, all those who were had a type of job, or duty. Even boys and girls of age 6 and up who were dressed, had something to do, like the page that ran up to them now and spoke to Mel with urgency in his voice. Avon smiled; he was a messenger boy, and all day the only thing he'd be doing would be to run back and forth, back and forth.

"Avon, we're over there." Mel pointed back to where to boy had come from; there was a small striped tent there and a blond man waved to them from the entrance. He nodded and followed her, keeping an eye out for any stray arrows from the archery field. They were only a short distance away and he didn't want to be on the receiving end of ANYTHING pointy, be it arrows or his own sword.

"Mel, hoe is het met jou? Is dit Avon?" He perked up at the mention of his name, and watched as Mel nodded and proceeded with the three kiss scenario. The tall middle-aged man then turned to him and shook him by the hand, VERY firmly.

"Hello Avon, I am very happy to finally meet you." The man smiled, his eyes were a deep grey and looked like he always knew something no one else did, and with great humour. Avon blinked, his English was impeccable. The man saw his confusion and laughed.

"I originally came from England, but Mel and I always speak in Dutch, it just would defeat the purpose of being in Holland otherwise."

He grinned and Avon relaxed, maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. His eyes took in the man's clothing, he wasn't a knight, or a guard, or even a peasant.

"I'm an apothecary." He read Avon's thoughts and he blinked, apologizing for staring. The effort was wasted and the man waved it off.

"Never mind. By the way, I'm Simon." That started a large conversation on their own countries and the differences between England and Holland and…well, the same dribble he and Mel would always talk about. He felt as though he'd known this guy for years, they were so familiar with each other and he didn't notice time passing until an impatient tug on his elbow caught his attention.

"What is it Mel?" He asked, peering over his shoulder at her.

"We gotta go, I got a job to do and so do you." Avon grinned, sparring.

"Sorry, but I've got to go and kick some butt."

Simon smiled sympathetically in response. "I'm sorry mate, but all I can do is say, good luck." Avon frowned a little but shrugged it off as he followed Mel out onto a small field. 

A large mass of people had gathered and he waited while Mel fixed herself up. She had explained to him before they left, that every year she usually teaches people archery and demonstrates some simple sword techniques. But she was the only one who could do it right, so it left nothing for competition. But now that HE was here, some fun could be had and he looked forward to it, maybe this time he could lay HER on her back, instead of the other way round.

The game? Stand on a log spanning a gap, there's a big haystack of straw underneath them so if one should fall, it didn't matter. Face each other, hold a long pole (she had brought two along just for this purpose), and try to push the other off the log. Catch? You have to have all your other equipment attached to cause weight problems and balance difficulties.

It always reminded him of the 'Little' John and Robin Hood fight over the river sequence…and just as funny.

He smiled as Mel pulled the bundle of arrows from her pack, unwrapping them; she placed them into her quiver before strapping it on. The bow followed and the short knife at her side, she then unbuttoned her cloak, folded it up, placed it in her pack and hoisted it onto her shoulder, making sure it stayed to one side of the quiver. She had hand made the pack, so it would look totally genuine.

He looked down at the now unwrapped sword; it glinted in the sunlight before he sheathed it. His own cloak went into his pack (handmade by Mel) and he realized that they were now matched. She had made herself more awkward in substitution of his extra weight caused by the chain mail.

Interesting.

She grinned at him. "Before we kill each other, can you help me with this?" She handed him a single wrist guard. But as he helped put it on, he noticed it was very different; it went over her right hand more and a long strip of leather ran up the inside of her palm. That was then fastened into place around two fingers, causing them to be bound together.

Ah, it was for archery, she needed ALL her gear and this was no exception. 

"Ok, I'm done." She said, and they walked together towards the crowd, who then parted to let them through with many an 'oooh' and 'ahhh'. As they made their entrance they sang their little tune, something they had picked up along the way in life and simply used it as their marching song for now. 

"Vaiyo A-O, A Home Va Ya Ray. Vaiyo A-Rah, Jerhume Brunnen G!"

Avon whispered quietly to her at the end. "I don't think we are the Brunnen G."

"And Kai is dead so there isn't any left anyway." She answered quickly.

"And Earth kind of blew up at the end."

"Point taken…then there are still Brunnen G."

"One left, Kai. Coz Earth is still alive."

"Why are we talking about Kai?"

He shrugged. "You tell me."

Avon couldn't help but grin at the endless and pointless situations they always got into as they approached the raised log. They had to play a scenario and they had worked out that if they yelled out insults, one in English, the other in Dutch, they could really get some laughs as Avon would have no clue as to what Mel was yelling at him.

Hoisting himself up, he stood on the small platform for a moment, waiting for Mel on the other side. There were two refs, and a bunch of "peasants" to add to the atmosphere. A couple of knights also stood to one side, their hands on the reins of their horses and their helmets under an arm. Man it was so real.

Now they were ready. She stood at the other end and they smiled across the way, the other thing was they had to make it a show, especially for the kids.

Avon felt a twinge in his stomach as he saw her smile falter, he looked to where she was gazing and saw a young mother with her baby in a pram, pushing it back and forth. A cloud went over the sun and for a brief moment, he felt incredible sadness in his heart. Mel wanted kids, she always had, but it was impossible. Shortly after leaving Australia for the last time, she had been hit by a car while riding her bike. Neither were at fault, the road was icy and the chains round the tires had failed, causing the car to knock her off her bike and pinning her between it, and a tree.

She had been lucky, but the accident had damaged a few certain organs to the extent that they had to remove them, all. She could never have kids, adopt maybe, but never really have her own flesh and blood.

The cloud lifted and all was merry again. She gave him a sign and he yelled at her.

"What do you mean I'm an English coward?" He spoke as authentically as he could, she raised an eyebrow. I'm impressed, it said.

"Lafaard! Lafaard!" She yelled back and took step forward onto the log, keeping her staff steady in one hand. Avon could only guess what she had called him as the crowd tittered with suppressed laughter.

"You're slower than a snail!" He checked his balance, gripping the staff as he moved slowly forward.

"Kus mijn kont!"

"Mama's girl!"

"Kleine jongen!"

"Stupid!"

"Vet!"

"I could knock you off here in one tiny swipe!" They were now face to face and she grinned devilishly.

"Bring it on."

The crowd had been in hysterics over their antics, especially when Avon's face was continually contorting as he tried to understand what was being said. But now it was reduced to gasps of awe and surprise. This was no mere tapping of poles, these two had skill and they were using it to the full.

Mel twirled her staff in her hands, making a huge show of it before bringing it down and swiping at his knees. Avon had predicted this and he leapt high in the air, drawing his legs up till he was in a ball before straightening out and bringing the pole down, aiming for her head as he landed. She brought her own staff up and blocked it before spinning around on her toes in an aim for his side. He blocked and parried, swiping, twisting and jumping.

Sweat coursed down their faces, the crowd was silent now and it had become bigger as more people came to see the action. They were now gazing up at the two friends who were matching each other, hit for hit.

Suddenly Avon brought his staff down and she blocked, locking them together in a struggle for the upper hand. Their faces were barely inches away from each other and he grinned. 

"Got ya now."

She gritted her teeth in the struggle and smiled back. "You think? I think not." And with that she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. This stunned him for a moment before she pulled away.

"Gotcha."

"Wha…?" He didn't have time to respond as she whipped his staff out of his grip with her own, before grabbing it and bringing them behind his knees, hard. Avon felt himself buckle and tried to stop from falling but was too late and he wind-milled his arms frantically before screaming in rage as he tumbled to the straw beneath.

The crowd roared with cheers and laughter, Mel laughed down at him as he surfaced from under the yellow straw.

"You cheated!" He yelled, pulling fluff and bits from his hair, scowling.

"Did not! It was fair and square!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Was…" He faded off, something had caught his eye.

"Ah hah! You agree with me!" Mel laughed before she noticed he was distracted. "Avon?"

He didn't hear her. Two large, blue, very frightened eyes stared up at him from beneath the straw before a little curly head poked itself up and started to move away.

"Hey, kid!" Avon reached out to grab the child.

"Don't touch me!" It screeched.

"Avon?" Mel dropped down next to him, handing him his pole to grab and hoist himself up. He took it and reached out again to the child.

"Little guy?"

"I said don't touch…"

Avon's fingers brushed against the little one's brown coat and the whole world turned upside down.

"AVON!" Mel screeched from a distance, his vision was blurred and for a moment it felt as though he were about to be torn in two. Fiery lights flashed around him and a great heat enveloped his body before a 'pop', and he landed back on solid ground.

He kept his eyes tightly closed, nausea was washing over him and the first thing he noticed was that he was no longer in the straw. Next, was that he still had a firm grip of his staff…and thirdly, was that it was silent.

He gingerly opened one eye and found himself on his back, staring up into the canopy of intermingling trees. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his head to somehow rid himself of the dizziness that just was not dissipating.

"Mel?" His call was met with more silence and he stood up, swaying a little as he surveyed his surroundings.

"Crap, where am I?

Tbc…

**A/N: **For those who have been following this fic, the additions may be not quite so obvious except for the Brunnen G. Keep an eye on it recurring…I had totally forgotten I needed it up till when I hit a wall in chapter 16. Silly me. The song is real…and here is the link to it (minus the spaces)… ht tp : // scifi. myrealm. co. uk/ brunneng. php

Thankyou for reviewing…it gets me out of my workaholic mode and makes me write.

Be well 

~Vana E~


	3. Reality Check

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**Authors Note:** This and most of the following chapters up until 15 have been rehashed. Details have been added, grammar corrected and as I will probably never have a beta-reader, this is all done according to what I felt was wrong and has no other outside influence. And I am also pondering the wisdom of rehashing every single chapter…am I some kind of lopsided Prima-Donna perfectionist? 

**Summery:** A young man is pulled into Middle Earth, and from there on it's a downward spiral.

**Chapter Summery: **If he thought the fair was strange…he hasn't experienced anything yet.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

**CHAP 3:_ Reality Check_**

The forest was dense and he could see no recognizable object to place his bearings. He could barely see the sky above his head, and even though there was a fresh breeze running under the heavy boughs, he felt slightly claustrophobic. 

Where was everybody? Where were the tents and flags and even the bloody huge castle that could be spotted a mile away? 

Where was he?

Avon had shaken off the dizziness and was now wandering around. His body felt battered and bruised, not only from the slight beating from the fight, but also from when he hit the solid earth from wherever he had fallen from. Had he lost consciousness, and someone was now playing a dirty trick on him?

"Mel!" His voice sounded flat against the impending trees.

"Mel! Where are you?" He hollered, cupping his mouth in his hands and standing on his tip toes, trying to be taller that any object about him. There was nothing, only a twitter of a bird answered his calls and he sat down, defeated.

What was happening? Where had that little kid gone? All he had done is reach out to see if he was ok, then he felt his world go to pieces. Had something knocked him out and somebody bring him here to recover? But wouldn't it be more logical to put him in the first aid tent?

So many questions, and none were being answered by simply sitting here and pondering over lost items of thought. So he stood up once more, brushed forest debris off his clothing (which now seemed so in place in this untamed environment), and proceeded to walk. He didn't know where he was going, but the wispy trails of smoke rising through a gap in the trees derived the possibility of a house, with a warm fire and possibly a phone.

He thought about what he would tell the police, that he had been kidnapped in broad daylight and left in a strange part of one of their forests? That someone had played a dirty trick, and now his "friend" was gonna catch it? That…

He stopped. He had been walking in a general straight line for only a short while, maybe 15 minutes or so, he couldn't tell without his watch and Mel had prohibited him from wearing it today. And now he could hear voices, loud ones. As he crept closer he could distinguish one of them laughing at something or another, a joke maybe. 

It was at this moment that he realized he was feeling rather hot and sweaty, other things had driven this out of his mind before, but now as he approached a clearing and the sun slanted down over him, his clothes started to feel rather heavy and uncomfortable. A hot spell? He wondered, peering through some dense foliage at the scene.

A group of three men were gathered together by a campfire. One was leaning back against a tree, his eyes closed and he was seemingly asleep, the other two were either squatting or standing near the fire and the one standing was turning a spit, a delicious smell wafting from it. Avon sniffed the air in delight, these medieval folk sure knew how to make it genuine, he thought as he scrutinized their clothes. 

They were dressed similarly to him, except maybe they had overdone it a bit with the scruffiness. It looked like none of them had shaved in weeks, just for today and he smiled, pondering over whether to interrupt the absolutely enchanting vision, it was like stepping back in time.

"Move and die." Avon froze, a gruff voice sounded next to his ear and the hot breath tickled the hairs on the back of his neck. What unnerved him more was the distinct feeling of something cold and sharp against his throat. Oh perfect, a mugger.

"Look, I'll give you anything you want. But I don't have a wallet. If you'd just…"

"Be still and listen." The voice was still low and Avon saw that their presence wasn't known by the men out in the clearing. The knife pressed harder and he bit back a yelp as it pricked his skin, a thin blob of blood appeared and he felt it run a little before clotting.

"State your name and loyalties, quickly before I slit your throat from ear to ear."

Avon gulped but spoke quickly. 

"My name's Avon Harrison, I'm Australian if that's any help and I don't know what you mean about 'loyalties', are we in a war or something or…hang on, you speak English pretty good. Are you a friend of Simon or is this some stupid prank Mel's playing on me? Coz it lost it's funniness about two minutes ago, that is if it was ever funny to begin with. And what's going on with the mugging? Usually if you want to mug someone you don't wait till they get the chance to do this…"

Avon reached up and grabbed the hand that held the knife, pinching the nerves in his wrist and making him lose his grasp of the weapon. Then faster than the man could see, he had spun himself out of the grip the man had had on his waist and kicked him behind the knee, sending him down onto his back, whereupon Avon straddled him and pushed his forearm into his throat till his eyes bulged.

"Who's got the upper hand now?" He kept a firm grip on the wrist and gave it another pinch, eliciting a cry of pain from the rugged man's lips. He saw his staff a short way away, but he ignored it and focused on the man under him.

He was dressed the same as the others, another performer. Avon groaned inwardly, when would they stop this darn charade and let him find out what had happened.

"Let go now, and we may spare your pathetic little life, Traitor." Avon stared at the man beneath him, he hadn't spoken a word so where had…oh. The distinctive feel of another sharp object on the base of his neck gave him the feeling that maybe this wasn't a game for these people.

He craned his head back and saw out of the corner of his eye, one of the men who had been next to the fire. His eyes were blazing and he held the sword firmly, he noticed Avon staring at him quizzically and nodded, his eyes trained on something behind him. 

A flash of white light then obscured his vision and blinding white pain shot through his skull. As he lost consciousness, he wondered if this screwed up dream would end now, and he would wake up somewhere normal for once. But the last words that drifted into his mind were less than reassuring.

"If he can't prove his loyalty to Gondor, he dies at dawn tomorrow."

* * * *

Avon groaned and cringed, his head hurt like hell and he was feeling very stiff and sore, as he tried to flex his muscles he found out why. Oh this was just screwy. He was tied up? How mucked up can one day get? Avon twisted his body around to see something that wasn't a tree, and came face to face with the biggest shock of his life.

"Ahhh!" He screeched and struggled with his hands. Being hog-tied was not his idea of fun, and the fact that 3 pretty vicious looking men dressed up in old day clothes, armour and swords were standing over him with the said weapons pointed at various parts of his body, was making him more terrified than he'd ever felt before in his life.

He couldn't speak; they were simply glaring at him, as though to intimidate him. Well screw that and he pressed his lips further together, probably giving his mouth a goldfish look.

"Leave him be, we can wait till tomorrow to taste a traitor's blood. I am tired and his squeaking is becoming tiresome." Avon squinted into the darkness beyond the firelight where he thought the voice emanated from, and he noticed one of the others do the same.

"He tried to kill me, brother."

"But from what I heard, you tried to kill him first." The voice growled and the other became silent. He scowled down at Avon before sheathing his sword and stalking off. He looked pissed.

The other two were looking a little nervous as they stared after their obvious "leader", but Avon was more than happy when they finally decided to follow suit and leave him alone.

As they left and disappeared beyond the glare of the campfire, he decided to risk looking around at his surroundings. He struggled a bit, but managed finally to turn himself around so he faced another area of the clearing they were in, and gasped. 

"Oh my God!" 

They were not where he thought they were. Beforehand, when he had first snuck up upon the little camp, he noticed that they were surrounded on all sides by dense foliage and many trees. The ground had been flat and there were no hills in sight.

Now, in the light of the full moon, he could see that they were now encamped upon a rise that looked down onto a deep valley filled with more trees. There was little undergrowth around him, and he supposed they had moved just in case he tried to escape, which, of course, was exactly what he was planning.

Hang on, when did Holland have deep valleys in the middle of a city? Actually…did the Delta country even HAVE valleys?

His thoughts were interrupted at that moment by a distinct rumble of hunger in his stomach, he hadn't eaten since that morning and his whole body clock had been screwed with since being knocked out. Due to the heat wave, he couldn't even tell what time of night it was, seeing as it usually got colder closer to midnight.

He had a choice now, either escape and find some food by himself, or go and beg for something from the very people who were probably going to kill him in the morning because he didn't know how to answer a stupid question. 

With that, he opted for escape and settled down to find a weak spot in the rope. Ah, there it was, now if he could just pull on that knot and loosen that tie…like so, maybe then he could pull that loose bit through and…he continued for a long time. Finally the quiet murmurs of the 4 men simmered down until only snores could be heard, and Avon loosened the last knot that held his hands near his feet. He stretched out, sighing with relief as his cramped muscles and ligaments loosened, then he hooked his feet between his bound arms and brought them to the front so he could reach the hidden boot knife properly.

For the umpteenth time that night, he thanked Mel for making him wear all his junk, even though his sword had been removed along with his armour (he now just had the shirt and jerkin on), the staff was missing and his pack was possibly somewhere over near the men. They may have rifled through it to find some money or something.

Cutting the rope then, his arms and legs free, he waited for a moment, checking if the kidnappers (yes, he must have been kidnapped) knew what he was doing. But he was rewarded with more snores and he wriggled away silently on his stomach, until the sleepy rumblings became silent and the dying embers of the fire disappeared.

He was free, and lost.

Avon stood up and looked around. Where the hell was he? What was going on? Where was the city, the lights, some kind of civilization? Where was ANYTHING?

He sat down again in a huff. He felt like crying, and even though he felt grown men shouldn't do such things, he did just that. He was lost, alone, very confused and VERY hungry.

"Ah, so our little rat escapes the trap. Very interesting." Avon screeched uncontrollably and sprung up, quickly wiping away the tears and coming face to face with someone who looked familiar, but not quite. He didn't ponder over this too long because the other man had a sword in his hand, pointing it deliberately at Avon's chest. "Maybe we should have a talk someday about how to escape the ever ready ears of a man of Gondor. If you wish to live, that is?"

Damn, he should have known that people this integrated in the old days would go as far as to have a watch. He looked the man over and noticed that he had an arm in a sling, a patch of something coloured brown stained his shirt around the shoulder. He could only guess it to be dried blood. They were trying WAY too hard. 

The man cocked his eyebrow and shifted his feet; he seemed to be waiting for Avon to say something. But of course, he kept quiet; if he wasn't so stubborn he might have avoided the following situation.

"Ok then. You try to kill my brother, or so he says. You act as though you are mute, but of course those annoying sounds and strange words you spoke earlier suggest otherwise. You never say anything in your defence and it seems to me that you are hiding a lot more than you let on. If such an escape artist, as yourself, can feel themselves invulnerable to the extent that you must defy everything, then you must learn a very important lesson."

Something in Avon snapped. Him, learn a lesson? It should be the other way round and he spoke directly to someone for the first time in hours.

"Me? I don't think so matey! Personally I think you need a reality check coz you're not all with it. For one thing, if you are so sure that I need to have loyalties, well all I can say is…get with the times. The only war today is over east somewhere and even THAT is so far gone, I doubt anyone will win! If I am so strange you gotta look in the mirror. Did you even wash or shave once in weeks? What! Do you LIVE for this day every year? Just so you can feel a BIT normal for once!?" Avon knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but now he was so steamed up he didn't care. Tears of rage were building up in the corners of his eyes and were threatening to spill down his cheeks as he continued raving. "I am tired, my head is killing me, I have not friggen clue where I am. You kidnap me, try to mug me, take me off somewhere, tie me up, threaten to kill me and you expect me to be grateful!?" His voice was becoming a little shrill, he was bordering on hysteria and the tears that before were on the verge of spilling, were now coursing down his face, unstoppable. "Well I'm NOT! Thankyou very much! I don't know who the hell you think you are but I know what I want! And I want to go home dammit! HOME!"

With that he violently rubbed at his eyes and pushed past the man to get him out of his way. 

The man, who had been slightly shocked by this outburst, didn't realise what Avon was doing until he felt a heavy hand push him in his injured shoulder. On reflex he raised his sword at waist height and was surprised when Avon didn't stop.

Avon was blind with anger and tears and didn't see the sword until the last moment, when he pushed forward and it pierced him in his side.

He screamed. Blood welled up and heavily stained his shirt, it then started to spill down his side before Avon really knew what had happened. He looked down, felt it gingerly with his hand before dropping to his knees, gasping in pain.

The other man took up a horn he had strung around his shoulders and blew it before dropping down next to Avon.

"Oh by all that is good, what have I done?" He whispered and grabbed Avon's shoulders, trying to keep him upright. 

He looked up at the strange man, his eyes felt heavy and the pain was lessening.

"Who are you?" He gasped.

"I am Boromir, son of Denethor 'Steward of Gondor'." He paused, ripping strips out of his own cloak and trying to turn them into a form of bandages. "And I have misjudged a worthy ally, confidante and possible friend. Had I but known what you were going through, I may have not let my brother and my men treat you so harshly. Do I have your forgiveness?"

Avon was becoming weak, but he pondered over the man's words. Boromir, the name was familiar…but, no! It couldn't be, he was in a book, and the book was not real. None of this was real, then why did it hurt?

"You have my forgiveness, do I have yours?" He reached out through the building haze and felt his hand being grasped by another.

"You do, friend."

Friend, it had a nice ring to it and he felt a slight smile tweak the corners of his mouth. The last few hours seemed dim and it was all of a sudden, ok.

"Boromir!" A voice called and the other three men crashed through the bushes, their swords glinting in the moonlight. The one Avon had fought with before stopped and tried to take in the scene.

"Boromir my brother, are you well? We saw that the prisoner had escaped and we feared…oh, so you caught him. The traitorous swine, I hope he…Boromir?"

Avon knew that the man holding his shoulder was shaking with suppressed anger and he hoped that he wouldn't jump to too many conclusions, the other guy was just really pissed at him for nearly choking him to death. That's all.

"Faramir, he is no traitor nor is he our enemy. He is naught but a lost boy who does not like the feel of hard cold steel upon his throat. You must not judge him for his own confusion, though he be not of Gondor, he is also not of the Great Enemy, therefore must be placed under a flag of friendship. Loth am I now to be so hasty, for he is injured by mine own hand." He kept one hand on Avon's shoulder and hastily tried to wrap the strips of cloth around his waist to stem the blood flow. "See here the result of our folly, we must take him swiftly back to the city before it is too late, there a healer may be able to reverse our wrongs."

Avon heard the one sided conversation very dimly, he knew he needed to get to a hospital soon or the loss of blood could be fatal. But by the sounds of things, he didn't think a hospital would be in order, more like a bloody miracle. "No." he squeaked as the hand left his shoulder. The other man was getting up to do something and Avon had lost the only thing which had held him upright for the last few minutes. He watched everything in slow motion as the ground came up to meet him. Faramir was shouting something and Boromir was turning around, just in time to see him flop lifelessly to the forest floor. The world seemed to spin and nausea built up in his system once more.

"Avon, your name is Avon. Please, do not pass. Do not tread the shadows. We will make you return, I promise that. Oh please forgive me, Avon…" The darkness crept up, and he fell asleep. Or something close to it anyway, was this death? He sure bloody hoped not, he still had to beat Mel at least once in a fight. Just once.

Tbc…

A/N: Reviewing is pleasant…even if you hate this, leaving a critical response is welcome so I can find out where to improve.

Be well 

~Vana E~


	4. Travelling

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**Authors Note:** This and most of the following chapters up until 15 have been rehashed. Details have been added, grammar corrected and as I will probably never have a beta-reader, this is all done according to what I felt was wrong and has no other outside influence. It is official…I am a workaholic who wants to write. Rather irritating combination as now the writing bug has bitten me fully and this all must come out before the New Year is over one day old. (rehashed 31/12/2003)

**Summery:** A young man is pulled into Middle Earth, and from there on it's a downward spiral.

**Chapter Summery: **A long journey with a growing friendship, but unfortunately it can be done a lot smoother if memories would stop popping up and a twisted interpretation of strength be avoided.

**Warning:** Bit of violence later on, and a glimpse into some pretty deep memories that still haunt Avon. These glimpses will continue throughout the story, so not a big warning now.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

**CHAP 4:_ Travelling_**

"Ow! Would you just quit it!? Ow, stop it…BOROMIR!" The yell echoed through the corridors of the healing house and Boromir skidded to a halt outside the other man's room. He then grinned at the sight and leaned casually against the doorframe, trying to watch the scene unfold before him with a straight face.

Avon was trying to get out of the grip of four healers, each one trying to apply some stinging paste on his side where the sword had slashed. Trying, and failing miserably.

"Will you just bloody leave me alone…OW, quit it! Stop that, I'm fine. See, I'm getting better. I am better, now get off me!" He growled and gave a final push, scrambling off the bed and scuttling over to the door.

"Boro man, you gotta get me away from these people. They're trying to kill me, again. I swear it!" He latched onto the man's coat and tried to hide himself under it, gripping the sheet around his body. There was no way he was going to run naked all over the city.

Boromir laughed and pushed him back out.

"If you wish to be better enough to come with me, you must listen to those who have more sense. They know what they are doing friend, the wound will heal faster if…"

"But it won't!" Avon interrupted, jumping back into the relative safety of the coat, and this time latching on so his fingers couldn't be pried off. He may have been smaller than the large, stocky son of the Steward, but he could be just as strong if he wanted to be.

"They don't know what they're doing!" he continued. "Take it from someone who has lived in the real world, all I needed was the stitches, and they don't hurt I promise, and a bit of rest. Look, if I've gotta have any more of that bloody ointment plastered all over me, I'll…I'll tear the roof down!" The threat went unheeded and Avon found himself being hoisted by Boromir, back onto the bed and held down, despite all his screams and swearing.

"Some friend you are." He gritted his teeth and hissed as one of the healers applied the paste, it sizzled a little due to the chemical reaction between it, and the healing skin surrounding the cut.

What had he done to deserve this? He had come to the white city of Minas Tirith 4 days before, and had been somehow healed miraculously by the "doctors" of the city. It was as though he had never lost any blood to begin with, and that the scar that had formed on his side was caused by a mere tangle with a thorn bush. A tangle with a pretty big thorn bush, but not with a sword.

"Sometimes I wonder about your "real world". This is mine, so how could you have one too if we share the same one?" Boromir drew up a chair and sat next to the bed. Avon knew he wouldn't be able to move until the stinging stopped, so he resigned himself to the fact that his new friend would never stop asking him questions until there was nothing more to be said.

"When I see Gandalf, I'll tell you all about it." He sighed, running his fingers over the edge of the sheet. He knew the book well enough; Mel had never written him a single letter without SOME reference to Lord Of The Rings in it. That and the fact he watched the movies and was forced to remember certain names, just so he wouldn't embarrass himself by stumbling over something in a typical 'Mel' conversation. God he missed her.

"Mithrandir, you always speak of him, and yet I cannot understand why he means so much to you. And I still do not fathom how you could know he is going to be in the very place I am headed; at the very time I get there, if I ever do. I do not know whether the place even exists."

Avon continued playing with the sheet. "Coz I said so."

This was the line that always ended the conversation, and Boromir took the hint once more. But this time he was a little miffed.

"Fine, if you do not want to share with your "friend", then there is nothing more to be said." He stood up and turned sharply, ready to storm out of the room.

Avon knew he probably had pushed it a little too far now.

"Boro, I'm sorry. It's just that…well, Gandalf…I'd probably have more luck trying to work something out with him. With you…well, your head'll probably explode."

He looked up timidly at the back of the man, not knowing what the response would be. He was a little more than surprised when a burst of laughter came from the man and he turned around, a huge grin on his face.

"If you are THAT worried about my head, maybe I'll ignore the threats you have been calling out the last two days. Such as, "I'll wring your neck," and "I'll get my mother onto you." You seem to have been aiming for other parts of my body, but never my head, maybe my face is very precious?" He grinned again as Avon glared at him.

"The only reason I haven't chosen your head as my next target, is because the threats I have in store for it are not to be heard by little children."

"Oooh, he has you there, brother!"

Faramir strode into the room, a basket under one arm and an apple (that he was currently chewing) in the other.

"I do not need your pity, little pup." Avon grinned at the obvious cringe the pet name enforced upon the other man as he put the basket down on the end of the bed.

"It is not right that you should go. You know what father said, he will not let you leave and you know it. Especially with this one." He motioned towards Avon who was now sitting up, he knew he had an indignant expression on his face and he used it to the max.

"I don't need a babysitter, I just gotta go to see Gandalf. That's it." He crossed his arms across his chest and frowned. "Farry, I can't tell you why, but Boro has gotta go, and not you. He's got this complex, you know. He has to prove something to your dad, I dunno what, but he's gotta."

He pouted a little, making himself look like a spoilt little child, even though he was nearly 25 years old.

Boromir ruffled his spiky hair and grinned.

"I don't need to prove anything, it's just that I can't stand to be stuffed up in this place much longer."

Faramir interjected. "So you're carrying out the plan?"

"Yes."

"He won't be happy."

"He will not have to know."

"I know, the 'scouting trip along Emyn Arnen'. But he will find out by the following moon, what will I do then? Simply withstand his wrath? I will not survive."

"Leave then, go on your own scouting trip. But this one is genuine." Both men turned in surprise to Avon who was now climbing out of the bed, keeping the sheet wrapped firmly about him and reaching into the basket.

"Ah good, you cleaned my clothes." With that he pulled them out and loped over to a screen, which he then hid behind. The two Gondor men were so confused as to why he was so shy, that they didn't even bother to stop him from dressing, when he should have still been resting.

"I'm hungry." He called out, pulling the shirt over his head and tying up the strings. "How does a person get anything but gruel around here?"

He then laughed and stepped out, scratching the back of his neck as he shrugged the jerkin on. That was when he noticed the strange looks the two brothers were giving him. "What! You never seen a man get dressed before?"

"It was what we didn't see that is strange to us, usually it is the women who hide behind that screen, not the men. Why are you so afraid to show your body, it is not as though there is anything we have not seen before." Boromir stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. Avon knew he must be showing something on his face and he tried to hide it with a smile.

"Where I come from, we really value complete privacy, absolutely complete."

"No you don't, there is something else." Now Faramir came towards him and put his own hand on the other shoulder. Avon involuntary flinched at the contact, but it was enough to get the men's real attention.

"What is it Avon? Do you wish to share it with us?" Boromir tried to steer him towards the bed, the intentions were obviously friendly, but a long buried automatic response surfaced and he spun away from all contact, fear in his eyes.

"I won't do it, I won't do it, I…" He stopped and smiled again, but the smile was stony.

"I'm sorry, I'm going for a walk now. See you tomorrow at dawn, we're leaving right?" With that, he dashed out of the room, ignoring the calls to come back and hurried out onto the dark empty street.

He knew he had a past, most people did. He wouldn't let it interfere with anything else though. He needed to find the wizard, wizards know magic and this one was no exception. He needed to get home, now. This world was becoming too intense and his guards were dropping. How long could he hold out? How long? 

* * * *

Avon groaned and rubbed his backside, watching Boromir out of the corner of his eye as he poked the building fire.

"You will get used to it, we have many days of riding ahead. Possibly many weeks." The other man straightened up and grinned at the younger one's obvious discomfort and pain. They had been riding for nearly two days straight before Avon had finally convinced him to just stop and rest, Boromir was definitely NOT going to be anywhere near his father when he found out he was gone.

"Weeks? I don't believe this, I thought it would only take a few days." He sat down gingerly, picking out a soft piece of turf and spread his legs out in front, pulling off his boots before doing so. His feet hadn't seen the light of day for what seemed like ages.

"No, I do not know where this strange place, Imladris, lies. As I told you before, I wish to seek council on the riddle, and only wise Lord Elrond Halfelven can help me. It will take a great amount of time to find it, not many men know where it is hidden."

Avon looked up from his ministrations of various forms of massage on his feet, listening to the man sigh and putter about the camp. He wanted to tell him everything, about the quest, the ring, the fact that he will die long before anything is finished. On that thought he winced, somehow he knew that even though this place was not really real, not imagined OR reality, he couldn't change a darn thing. It seemed a shame, he and Boromir had become rather close these last few days, it had come to him as a surprise when he had agreed to take Avon along. He seemed to understand more readily what Avon was going through. Though the concept of other worlds would possibly be far too much to handle, the thought of being lost in a strange part of Middle Earth was enough of an explanation. But the Steward had thought otherwise.

"_You expect me to believe that this…boy, should be given sanctuary? Not under my roof, in my kingdom will such atrocities be upheld. You said yourself you thought him to be a traitor, well, sometimes the mere thought can be closer to the truth than the further contemplations. He will be healed, then tried. That is my word, let no one disobey it._"

Avon sighed, it was another reason why he was removed from the city, more than likely he would have been killed. It was not something he really wanted to think about.

"Hie! Do you want some sustenance? Or are you just going to sit there all night!" Avon snapped out of his reverie and noticed that Boromir had some salted strips of pork laid out on the tin plates, waiting for some attention. He laughed then tried to get up, before crumpling to the ground again.

"I've got no legs!" he gasped, rubbing his thighs experimentally. 

Boromir laughed in turn. "Saddle sores, I'm afraid time is pressing and the pain and numbness will have to wait. You will get used to it…in time. It is a wonder why you never learnt in the first place."

"I prefer the legs." Avon called out, then mumbled something he hoped the other man wouldn't hear; otherwise he'd have to explain that it was all a joke, and that he wasn't really going to do that to his head. He wriggled over to the fire and settled down again, not without wincing though, but he didn't complain outwardly.

"_To be strong, it's my greatest ambition. If I'm strong, other people who need help can draw on that strength, and that makes me feel fulfilled, like I've accomplished something. But I can never be weak, that's why I didn't cry, crying is a sign of weakness and if I let it show, people will start to think everything I've done so far is hypocrisy. I can't let that happen, strength is my only weapon left against the cruelty in this world. I'll never let it show, you got that Avon? Never._"

He chewed on his food contemplatively. Mel had only started acting like that about a year before she left, something had happened and it was almost a taboo to show anything apart from happiness and nonchalance. She seemed to shun her previous life, sickness was not an option and she would only stop working when her body physically stopped her, by either collapsing in exhaustion or blacking out. Either of which she never showed in public, and he only caught her once.

She had seemed so embarrassed at letting a bit of physical weakness show that she literally pleaded with him not to tell anyone. Strength, he took her as an example now and every time he felt the slightest bit of tendency to complain, he'd think of what Mel would do in the same situation and would zip his mouth closed. Strength could be taken at many levels and even though hers was unhealthy, by locking up everything inside, she could sometimes be an inspiration.

"Care to share your musings?" 

Dammit Boromir, you always know when to butt in.

"Not really, unless you want to know my deepest and darkest fantasies." He grinned and nearly laughed when his friend leaned forward eagerly.

"Spill it." 

Point number 126 on 'Do Not Do List'- Do not use slang that might be picked up by unsuspecting Middle Earthians.

"Boro, I'll never tell you even if you tortured me…and you've really gotta stop using my words, they're almost sacred." He grinned again and settled back to eat the rather poor meal; he would do anything now for a hot shower, some clean clothes and a soft bed. But no, it was a non-cleanable trip, uncomfortable travel and a hard ground. Damn.

Boromir woke him up at dawn, it seemed like the guy had some kind of internal alarm clock and it was always on time. Avon felt stiff and sore from the riding the previous days and the fact that the "soft" grass had stones and lumps all the way through it.

The other man had to help him get back on the horse and he winced very visibly when his bruised behind came in contact with the saddle. Of course Boromir laughed, he was always so damn cheerful that it was driving Avon up the proverbial wall. He knew that he would feel ever sorer later on, the other man had no comprehension of the words 'rest, but not necessarily eat'.  

They rode and rode for many hours until Avon was sure his head would fall off with boredom, his hands would freeze to the reins and his rear would look like a baboon's. This wasn't an adventure; this was just plain annoying, so he decided to ask Boromir some questions.

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No!"

"Are we…"

"For pities sake, Avon, NO!"

Avon grumbled and went back into his own thoughts, the guy had no sense of real fun and the wall he was climbing was starting to look like a cliff face. It was irritating and he knew that the feeling would continue to rise until they got there, and now another question was coming to mind.

"Boromir, why do you take a dream so seriously? It's just a dream."

He looked over at the man on his own horse, and noticed he was fidgeting with the reins.

"In my culture, we do not take anything that is repeated more than once very lightly. I did not tell you before, but the dream came to Faramir first twice, before coming to me once. The exact same dream, it can be no mere coincidence, and the words were very real. I can still remember the voice that spoke them, so dark, so real…" he faded off and Avon knew this was the cue to shut up, of course he knew better and asked again.

"What were they again? I don't have the best memory since I got knocked over the head you know." Bullshit Avon and you know it.

"I wrote it down, reach into the outside pocket of the saddlebag there. Yes, that's the one. Can you find that folded piece of…you've got it."

Avon unfolded the parchment and tried to read the writing, but to him it looked like a bunch of scribble that he simply could NOT understand. No matter how many times he turned it upside down, round to the side and up to the light of the sun (keeping his arms looped securely though his reins), it was still the same 'ol scribble.

Boromir had been watching him closely for the last 5 minutes, smiling under his beard before he finally reached over and took it from him.

"I see you are not learned in the ways of written communication my friend."

Avon growled, "Of course I am, you just don't know how to write in plain English."

"English?" Boromir's eyebrows were raised. No, of course he wouldn't know what English is. He doesn't even know of an England.

"Never mind."

"Your words are strange, but that is no matter. I shall read it for you-

*_Seek for the sword that was broken:_

       _In Imladris it dwells;_

_There shall be councils taken_

_      Stronger than Morgul-spells._

_There shall be shown a token_

_      That Doom is near at hand,_

_For Isildur's Bane shall waken,_

_     And the Halfling forth shall stand.*_

I suppose that is sufficient for you?" Boromir refolded the note and put it back into the bag, smiling as Avon sighed and nodded.

It was the same one as before, he knew it would be. He just hoped there was something that he couldn't see before, something that could help him get home. If there was magic, why wouldn't it ever come when he asked it to? When things were becoming harder to bear than ever before. When he was all alone.

He drifted back into his thoughts once more and they rode, on and on and on.

For many days they travelled, it seemed as though they would never end. Boromir had been confused when Avon had made them stop for a full three hours one morning, long after the time they were due to leave. But he got used to the fact that once a week, for three hours he needed to stop and go off and be alone. It was religious to be sure, even though this was probably another dimension, in which totally different spirits ruled, he still couldn't break the old habit.

This went on for many long and boring weeks. They had stopped at taverns in some small towns at the beginning, even stopped off in Rohan to see to their horses. Avon's horse had become lame, the young man had a feeling it was due to his incompetent riding that added to the problem as, according to the glares and mutters from the Rohirrim workers at that particular ranch, he had made it's mouth harder than stone with the harsh pulling at the bit and therefore had been kicking it too much to move it. So they received two fresh horses, the one for Boromir being a gift after he spoke of his rank (Suck ups, Avon thought) and went on their way.

Now it was all wild lands, vacant of anything apart from the occasional animal, until one day…

"Orcs." Boromir hissed drawing his horse up and raising his arm.

Avon had been checking his hair and slight beard for the nits that were crawling mercilessly through it, he had tried at the beginning to shave with his knife but gave up after one nick too many. Now he had the same scruffiness about him that Boromir had, and the same curses that went with it.

"Orcs? What do you mean, Orcs? I thought they stuck to the fields, not the forests…I thought they hated trees."

"They do hate them," Boromir said as he dismounted. "I think these ones were driven here by necessity."

Avon followed; he had become quite agile with the horse over the last month or so. It was almost as easy now as running, which he aced at. Pulling their horses behind a particularly large tree, Boromir started getting his weapons ready, Avon felt the blood drain from his face.

"We're fighting them? We're fighting bloody Orcs??" he felt like screaming, but only whispered. His friend had taught him well how to behave cautiously and fight to live. He had in turn, taught Boromir quite a few nifty things as well…like martial arts and modern slang.

Boromir nodded. "They are too close, if we make to ride away, they will spot us and you will be dead before you hit the ground. That is, if they want you as dead, or for sport."

Avon shivered and got his own weapons ready. With clumsy fingers he un-strapped his staff from the saddle and looped the holder over his head and shoulder, it's own specially made carry case. Then it was down to loosening his sword in it's sheath, keeping his twin knives to the ready in his belt (these were a gift from a particularly grateful farmer who couldn't thank them enough for driving back the wolves from his flock), and making sure his little boot knife was where it belonged. This whole drill took far longer than necessary, he was shaking so much that Boromir was casting worried looks in his general direction as he scanned his eyes for the Orcs.

"They're gone." Avon looked up hopefully but noticed the concern etched on the man's face. "They simply disappeared, I think…"

_Whap_, a very nasty looking arrow quivered slightly in the bole of the tree. Avon's eyes were wide and he touched his nose, still there. The stupid arrow had missed it by mere millimetres and he was now looking over the shaft at Boromir who was running away. Not away from danger, but straight into it, the Orcs had snuck up behind them and they had surrounded them, all forty odd.

Avon quickly unstrapped the last thing from the saddle, a large round shield. He had only limited experience how to use it but if he wanted to keep his nose and head attached to his body, he needed to have it close.

He yelled in fear as the horrifying creatures converged on him, now was the time to put all those weeks of sparring to good use. And wasn't it Sunday today? Damn. He thought all this, but suddenly found that he couldn't move his feet, they were rooted to the ground. He started to panic, these guys were even scarier than he could ever have imagined.

Their eyes, they seemed to draw him into their horrible yellow depths and he felt time slow down. This always seemed to happen when something bad was about to happen, of course something did and only his adrenalin sharpened hearing avoided the whole adventure from coming to a halt right there and then.

He spun around and came face to face with one of the creatures; it's hand above its head holding a sword that was  aiming for his neck. Avon got to him first and he nearly threw up at the black blood spurting up from the decapitated body. It was his first kill, he had just murdered someone.

No! It wasn't someone; it was a spawn of pure evil that needed to be wiped away. He found his legs and ran out to help Boromir, raising his shield in split second timing as he felt two arrows thud into it. Man this was intense.

The other man was so busy killing he didn't notice Avon until he ran across the front of him, impaling two Orcs one after another on the end of his sword. He was feeling something boil up inside of him and he licked his lips. Was this the blood lust some people got in battle? Even if it wasn't, he was starting to crave it as he hacked off an arm of one and stabbed another. His quick reflexes would have made Mel smile if she saw him now. 

Mel, the thought of her made him falter for a second and it was only the screeching of an Orc as it swung at him with it's sword that brought him back to the present and he met the blow with his own weapon, the force shuddering through his arm and shoulder and making his teeth jar. The creature snarled and started attacking him, he was countering everything it threw at him but he could feel his arms becoming weak and sore. It then gave out a bloodcurdling scream and leaped into the air, spinning in a tight ball as it did so. Avon stood dumbstruck for a moment at the height it jumped to before he realized what it was doing.

"Avon!" The cry forced him to leap to the side and he narrowly missed the sword as it slashed angrily down where his head had been, the terror was starting to catch up at him and he only survived the next swing because Boromir killed the very Orc who was swinging it.

"Thanks." He rubbed at his forehead to get the sweat out of his eyes.

"No probs." Boromir didn't even look up as he ran off again to meet some new foe. Avon smiled grimly and shook his head; the slang would never suit him.  

There were more, they were always there and he started working on automatic, spinning around so he could meet one of them behind him, or to the side, or from above if they chose a tree to leap from like one was doing now.

"Oof." The wind was knocked out of him as the creature pinned him underneath it, their swords met halfway between their faces and Avon cringed at the smile it was giving. Something clicked in his mind, a creature like this was not the type to smile offhandedly, only if it knew something he didn't.

He glanced over to the side, still struggling in a death duel with the Orc who was still atop him, and saw something that made his heart stop. Boromir was surrounded on all sides, there was nowhere for him to go and he was turning slowly, sword at waist height and an expression of death on his face as they played with him like a cat and mouse. But he wasn't supposed to die, Boromir was supposed to go on the quest, he couldn't die because he had to do something important, something…

With the speed of something he had never seen before, Avon reached into his boot, drew out the knife and stabbed the foul creature in the side of it's neck, it's blood spurting over his face as he pushed the deadweight off him and stood up. Not one of the Orcs noticed him, the one he just killed must have given them enough assurance that he would be dead before long, so they ignored the fight and aimed for the last one standing, Boromir. 

He looked down at his sword still in his hand and gasped, about half a foot below the hilt there were notches that would make any professional swordsman cringe, it was now useless and all he had left were the two bow knives that he had barely an idea how to use, and his staff. Pulling it out of it holder with deliberate movements, he felt the wood carefully with his hands before gripping it tightly and gritting his teeth.

"Ah!" he screamed and ran forward. The Orcs were momentarily distracted which gave Boromir the chance to knock a few off before one leaped on him and stabbed him in the back. Avon screeched in rage and grief and pummelled headfirst into the first Orc, swinging his staff so it crushed its skull in one movement. Then another came, and another and before he knew it, he was surrounded. But he still swung like there was no tomorrow, he didn't want to die, but there was no chance of living either and another Orc went down. They couldn't get near him, with the terror induced speed and complete adrenaline filled swings combined they simply couldn't lay a finger on the human tornado, so they stepped aside.

Avon continued swinging a bit before he saw what they were doing and he slowed down, a bit confused before a sound that he had gotten used to in the last half hour or so came from behind him. He had lost his shield a way back, so now he was helpless and he knew there was nothing to be done, he didn't move as the bow sang and he waited for the inevitable. How much would an arrow hurt? As much as a sword? He waited, his eyes closed. He waited and waited but nothing came.

He opened his eyes and his hearing that had evaporated the moment he knew he would die, came rushing back and the sound of battle surrounded him. There were about 6 others fighting the Orcs now and the only thing Avon could think of at that moment was: how cliché can you get? Warriors coming to save you at the exact moment you are about to get killed.

He knew things were being taken care of now so he took that time to search for Boromir. His breath caught in his throat when he saw his friend lying face down on the leafy forest floor, a knife still poking from his back. He now thought of nothing else but to get to him, to hope that he could still be alive, to simply hope.

That sound again, he knew now that when he heard it last, he thought it was an Orc that was going to shoot him, but it was really one of the mysterious warriors that were finishing the rest off now. So as he heard it again, he thought it was one of his saviours and he didn't dwell on it but kept on running to his friend, ducking under swords, flying bodies and branches.

He gasped as something hit him from behind and tripped, the momentum of his run propelling him forward through the air until he landed on his stomach a short distance from his friend. Something was hurting him and he reached back, shocked at what he felt between his fingers. An arrow, lodged somewhere between his shoulder blade and spine. He was surprised it didn't hurt more than it did, it was more like a dull ache reverberating around that area, but he knew his lung hadn't been punctured and that was a definite good thing.

"Boromir?" He whispered, staying still apart from his hand creeping forward to grip the other man's. He smiled when the grip was returned and two grey eyes opened to stare at him.

"I am not hurt too bad, the mail countered much of the blow. But I stayed still so they would think me as dead, it never occurred to me that you would charge them like that."

Avon grinned, wincing a little but kept it hidden. "You should know me better than that Boro man, I'm not one to leave a good fight for a…" The pain had come; it felt like something was crushing him down into the ground, twisting the point in his back till he nearly screamed. He would never show it though, never.

So, with great difficulty, he heaved himself up from his prostrate position and knelt next to Boromir, breathing heavily with the exertion.

"Boro, I've gotta get that thing outta your back." He gasped, leaning heavily on one hand on his knee. Boromir nodded and stayed still, his face set in a flat blank in preparation for what was to come.

Avon waited a moment before grabbing hold of the hilt with one hand, holding the man's shoulder with the other, and pulled the blade out in one fluid motion. Boromir growled with pain but didn't make more noise than that, there was still a fight being fought about them and the less attention drawn to them the better.

It was true, the mail shirt had done much in deflecting the knife, it had forced it to go through some weaker rings on an angle so it missed any vital arteries and organs. Lucky guy.

Avon hissed, the movements were making his wound even worse, but he would be strong, he would never let it inhibit him.

"Boromir, can you walk?" there was silence for a moment before the man nodded and started to move. Avon leant over and helped him to his knees until they were facing each other. Avon used as much acting ability he could muster to keep his face impassive and blank, there was pain alright, but it couldn't show.

After a few attempts he finally managed to get Boromir to his feet, but he was still on the ground, unable to move due to the amount of searing pain reverberating over his back and around the ribs, making it hard to breathe. Boromir laid a hand on his shoulder, it was enough for him to gather up his last bit of energy and force himself to stand, which he did with seemingly little effort.

Now they stood together, Boromir swaying a little and Avon being the rock he had to be. The fight was over and now their rescuers were poking around the Orc bodies, pulling out arrows and kicking them to make sure they were dead. Finally one came up to them and took a firm grip on each of their shoulders, for Avon this was agony but he remained solid.

"Are you well? It is lucky that we came across you when we did or things may have turned grim." Avon studied the man standing in front of them, he had long dark brown hair that was tied back in a half ponytail, leaving the rest to hang which gave him a slightly girlish look. He didn't look much older than himself, that is, until Avon's eyes spotted the pointed ears, which then made him conclude that he had finally lost it.

An elf, a real elf who could be thousands of years old and here he was thinking that maybe there was someone in this nutty world who he could relate to. Not.

"I'm fine, but me mate here got stabbed and…well, can you help him?"

The elf stared at him as though he had just said that the sky was pink and the trees were really made of fairy floss. Avon simply stared back, using the experience he had with Mel to help him. He won the staring match as the elf looked back to Boromir, his eyebrows creased in concern. Avon knew he couldn't see the arrow.

"I will do what I can, but the sooner we get to Imladris the better. There he will receive better treatment." He nodded to Boromir and draped the man's arm over his shoulder, helping him stand upright as Avon had been doing before.

Avon let him go with a smile and nod, watching them go into the distance and behind a tree before his legs gave out and he started to fall. It was amazing how little the effect of pain had on his consciousness, he was still as wide-awake as you could get. But all he wanted to do now was just sleep so the fire would go away, so he crumpled to the ground and lay there on his stomach, not moving, trying not to breathe.

It felt like a long time before he heard a shout and someone running towards him, he didn't open his eyes. The embarrassment of being weak was too much to bear, if he looked like he was asleep it might look a little better, then he could say he didn't fall over voluntarily.

He felt someone drop next to him and feel his neck, for some reason he didn't even want to have a pulse at this moment in time; maybe they'd leave him alone so he could sleep. The hand jerked back before checking his neck again. He held his breath, maybe he DIDN'T have a pulse and this was the moment of consciousness before he died.

The person started shouting something in a weird language and a sudden white pain shot through his back, paralysing him with shock. The friggen idiot had just snapped the arrow shaft. If he had the will to open his eyes right then to just scream at him, he would have.

"Can you hear me? Tell me if you can hear me. Make a sign." He felt himself being shaken slightly, but he wouldn't give the guy the satisfaction that he had seemingly helped in his recovery, so he stayed dead still, continuing to hold his breath coz he knew the next one would probably kill him with the pain.

Now the guy was checking him over and he felt a slight weight, just below the spot where the arrow had gone in and Avon knew he was checking for breath; good luck mate, I'm not breathing until the pain goes. He was a little concerned that his body wasn't starving for oxygen by now; he felt he could hold it in forever.

Now he felt himself being lifted a little to be turned on his side, the elf (there was no other type of person there apart from him and Boromir, so he concluded that's what the guy must be) started checking around his mouth. At this moment he felt something come up inside and he coughed, it was enough to get his stomach going and he retched until all contents in his stomach were now on the forest floor. Then it was back to coughing, his throat felt red raw and he knew there were tears of pain running down his face, but he never opened those eyes, it was like a habit.

The elf was shouting again, what was with all this shouting?

Now there were more feet running and he felt himself being lifted into the air, his shoulders and legs being supported on a horizontal level while being turned so he was facing the sky. He opened his eyes.

There were four or five of them, he couldn't tell as he refused to look anywhere but up. They had used their arms as a type of stretcher and they had to walk sideways to carry him, one noticed he was "awake", and tried to get him to respond.

"Are you in much pain? How many fingers am I holding up? Do you remember what happened?" Useless and very obvious questions to make even a child react, but Avon never looked anywhere but at the sky, until he had to blink then he decided closing his eyes once more might be a good idea. 

He never slept or moved for nearly two whole days, even when they pulled the barbed arrow from his back. But he didn't open his eyes again until he heard a few certain words that raised a little hope in him.

"I don't believe it, Avon, we have arrived. We have come to Rivendell!"

Boromir?

Tbc…

A/N: Thank you for reviewing…rather a pleasant thing to log on and see them. Critical responses are always welcome and always boost me. Thank you again

Be well 

~Vana E~


	5. A Surprising Feast

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**Authors Note:** This and most of the following chapters up until 15 have been rehashed. Details have been added, grammar corrected and as I will probably never have a beta-reader, this is all done according to what I felt was wrong and has no other outside influence. It is official…I am a workaholic who wants to write. It makes for very very slow updates. (rehashed 29/5/2004)

**Summery:** A young man is pulled into Middle Earth, and from there on it's a downward spiral.

**Chapter Summery:** Maybe Elves should wear nametags, and maybe certain out-of-worlders should hold their tongue about modern entertainment .

**Warning:** None…unless you are squicked about singing. I had to put it in though…just don't ask okay. Oh…and a slight lift from the usual angst.

**CHAP 5:_ A Surprising Feast_**

"Jesus! Boro, don't you know the meaning of 'I'm rested now let me go'?" Avon limped over to the corner where Boromir had thrown his clean clothes in an attempt to stop him from leaving the room. There was no way he was going to be talked out of going to the feast, it had already started only a short while back and he wanted some real food in him before he went to bed.

"But you have been ill for two days, and the injury…"

"Is fine, I don't need to be coddled. I need to talk to Gandalf." He threw the shirt on over his head before he realized he was a little helpless. Boromir smiled.

"Don't just stand there, help me." Avon's voice was muffled by the shirt half over his head, Boromir laughed.

"Ok then, I will help you this one time. But if I do, you must be sure to come back before long, the wound is not fully healed yet and I do not want you to risk further injury. You have been asleep for quite a while, and I am thinking your brain is a little muddled, otherwise you wouldn't think of doing something so stupid as to feast while hurt." He pulled the shirt over Avon's head and helped with the laces. Then they both frowned simultaneously.

"Avon? Do you want me to keep on helping?" Avon knew he was referring to the rest of the clothes and he finally resigned himself to the help, no matter how much it reminded him of the past.

Finally he was ready, and if it weren't for the fact he had over a months worth of stubble on his chin and his hair had grown into an unruly long mess, he might have looked presentable to a lord.

"I will remain here, unlike you I have some sense." Avon scowled at the grinning man before shutting the door behind him. Now, to find food, you must follow your nose and you go…this way. He limped down the long corridor, passing many closed doors before one decided to open in front of him and nearly slam into his face.

"Hey! Watch it." He peered around the door and came face to face with a strange man. He was wearing a long green and yellow robe that hung open to reveal a fitted tunic, that didn't look very warm at all in these cooling nights. His long blond hair was pulled back into the same kind of style as the elves who had found them in the woods…oh yes, he WAS an elf.

"Oh, I am sorry. I thought everyone was in the hall." He closed the door behind him and reached out a hand. "Please accept my apologies." Avon smiled a little, but as he took the hand his impatience to find the hall showed as the greeting was very fast and short.

The elf noticed and made a haunting impression of an amused look; they were very scary sometimes. "I see you are new here. Come with me, I shall show you the way." Avon took up the invitation and followed the elf like a dog trotting on his masters heels, there was no way he could keep up the pace for long though and when the distinct sounds of a "party" was heard he felt very grateful. Avon nearly ran to the door before a sound wafted over the general clatter of plates and glasses, the sound of singing.

As he made his way slowly into the huge room, he noticed that the hall had gone quiet and everyone was listening to a strange song. For them it was strange but for Avon, it was so damn familiar that he could of screamed.

"_Oh ye'll take the high road and I'll take the low road and I'll be in Scotland afore ye._

_But me and me true love will ever wan te gae, on the bonnie bonnie banks of Loch Lomond…_"

The person stood on a chair as they sang, obviously enjoying the attention as they finished the next verse and started on the chorus again.

"_Oh ye'll take the high road and I'll take the low road and I'll be in Scotland afore ye…_

Avon couldn't take it any longer and his deep tenor boomed out the next line with the other person.

"_But me and me true love will ever wan te gae, on the bonnie bonnie banks of Loch Lomond!_"

He blushed a little as all eyes turned to him and the singer on the chair went as white as snow. They stood there, on practically opposite sides of the room, simply staring at each other. The hall was silent, not even a whisper was heard until…

"Avon?"

"Mel?"

"AVON!"

"MEL!"

The other leaped off their chair and Avon ran as fast as he could with a distinctive limp, they met in the middle somewhere and he felt himself being lifted into the air and swung around. His cheeks felt like they were on fire with the embarrassment and pain from being held round the middle by someone who looked so much weaker than him.

"Mel! Stop it, put me down now!"

She complied and dropped him, making him a little unsteady on his feet before he grabbed her in his own version of a bear hug. He knew she loved doing that to people, never mind the strain on her back and slight body, it was all for showing off.

"Oh my god I don't believe…"

"How did you…"

"How did I? How could you…"

"I never knew, you been here all this time?"

"Not exactly, more like travelling."

"Me too! OH MY GOD!"

Mel screamed and they danced around each other, holding hands as if they would let go, the whole wonderful feeling would disappear. It was at that moment that Avon felt eyes on him and he looked over Mel's shoulder, going even redder at the sight.

"Mel, conform." He grabbed her about the waist and turned her around so she faced the same general direction he was. The whole room was staring at them, every pair of eyes had either an amused twinkle or a morbidly confused look and it was embarrassing the heck out of both of them.

"Very interesting. I suppose we don't need any entertainment from you fine elves then tonight, begging your pardon of course Lord Elrond. But I find this to be quite amusing in it's own right, that is of course if you wish to continue?" A smallish looking man with a long white beard stood on his chair and started to clap, within moments the whole room was applauding and cheering, Avon ducked his head to Mel's ear.

"Let's make a hasty yet dignified exit."

She nodded and they turned, ready to escape. They didn't count for the blond elf standing directly behind them though and they nearly flattened him in their hurry to get out of the room.

"Woah! I have no need to be attacked just yet," he laughed. "Why don't we all just be friends?" The elf then did the worst thing, in Avon's mind, possible. He gave them both a firm slap on their backs and Avon felt his hand moving before he realized it. It flew through the air and made contact with the elf's face at the same time as another hand on the other cheek.

The duel sounds reverberated throughout the hall and once more, all eyes were on them. Avon looked over at Mel in slight surprise, she did the same with him then grinned, a little painfully though, he noticed. They then turned to the shocked elf standing in front of them; he held his face with both hands, eying them both warily as they smiled an apology at him.

Then in one movement, they simultaneously pried his hands from his cheeks, leaned forward and gave the one each had slapped a little peck before grabbing hands and running out of the hall. The sounds of laughter would ring in their ears for many days to come. No wonder people who didn't know him thought he was gay.

Avon pulled Mel into what looked like a library and heaved the heavy door until it closed fully, then he turned to her and they embraced once more.

"I thought I'd never see you again." She whispered, obviously trying to keep her voice steady.

"Me too." He pulled away and took her by the shoulders gently, looking deep into her eyes. "How did you get here? What is going on? And what happened to you?"

He gently touched the two-inch scar on the far side of her cheek and she flinched, pulling her head away until he couldn't see it anymore, though it wasn't that bad.

"An accident." Her face was set in the familiar stony look that proved she was trying to hide something; he didn't pursue it now though, just to see the look was enough. He had missed her so much. Then his face broke out into a grin.

"Did you see that guy's face when we slapped him? I thought I would die laughing." He looked at Mel and noticed that her shoulders were shaking from suppressed laughter.

"Yeah, we sure do make quite a team."

"Yeah." The laughter died away and they stood in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly they turned to face one another again.

"What happened?" they said simultaneously, gripping each other's hands as thought to grip reality.

"I don't know," said Mel. "All I can remember about the last time I saw you was that there was fire, then nothing. It happened so fast I…I can't remember what happened after. He thought I was an enemy, then he thought I was after the hobbits, then…"

"Mel, calm down." She was almost hysterical, something he had never seen before. Avon took hold of her wrists and saw a flicker of pain run across her eyes. He frowned and looked down where he was holding and saw something he wished he could reverse. Old rope burns and scars ran the entire way around both wrists, giving the effect of having bracelets of puckered welts; they were old, but still looked dramatically painful. He let go and took one hand in both of his own, leading her over to the window that looked out over the fair valley. He noticed that she still wore the promise ring.

"Mel, tell me everything."

What followed was a dramatic retelling of everything that had happened over the last three and a half months, Avon tried to take it all in but soon his head was spinning with the amount of information being brought before him.

She had had the same experience he did with the heat and the flying before landing hard in some strange place, apparently though she had fallen into a tree and had hit her head, blacking out almost immediately. When she woke up she was surrounded by the Orcs everyone hated and feared; they had tied her hands with very harsh rope that seemed to grate into her very bones. Surprisingly they never killed her or bashed her to within an inch of her life, just taunted and tortured her with little intention of doing any real harm, but it was still terrifying. She said they hadn't done more than that but by the haunted look in her eyes, he was afraid to ask what else had happened even though he had a pretty good idea.

This went on for about a week in which time she had received a knife wound on her cheek for being bold enough to spit at their leader, and lashes for trying to escape. Then one day some strange men came and attacked the Orcs and nearly killed her in the process, it was only by sheer luck that they didn't skewer her the moment they saw her, she was almost as dirty as the Orcs and just as thin, they hadn't fed her at all and only gave her drink that used up more energy than it gave.

Then the leader of the men had taken her under his wing, caring for her until she was nearly better, but then he had tried to leave and she followed him. When he found out he got all suspicious and she nearly told him everything, about where she was really from and who she really was.

At about this point in the story, Avon looked Mel over thoroughly for the first time. Surely in a world where femininity was not to be contradicted, she should be wearing a dress of some sort, but she was wearing non other than men's tunic and leggings. He hadn't seen it before but now he noticed that her hair was still short, if a little messier than before, probably she had to cut it with a knife. She was dressed like a man, a pretty little man, but one nonetheless.

She told him now that she had been hiding her gender ever since coming to Middle Earth, no one except him knew she was really a girl and this unnerved him a little. As well as the fact hiding it after such torture would be next to impossible, he knew she hadn't had the recuperation a woman should get and he voiced his concern.

"Do you know what would of happened if he found out? I would still be in that stupid little town wearing a dress and probably having to earn a living by serving drinks and being a whore."

She pleaded with him not to tell anyone, there would be no chance of getting home otherwise as she would be forced to stay in Rivendell, never to find a way back, ever.

She continued with the retelling, it went on and he found out she had proclaimed herself as a type of manservant to the man who had cared for her, Aragorn. She never left his side and had proved herself more than once that she was a worthy partner, with all her martial arts and archery. He laughed when she told him about the meeting of the hobbits the first time, though it was meant to be a serious situation, she had spoiled the whole effect by getting drunk on what she thought was apple cider. She hadn't drunk any alcohol for 7 years, even though she used to be able to drink anybody under the table, so it had a very dramatic effect on her and she had been hitting on Aragorn the whole night. It wasn't until she woke up the next morning with a hangover to kill that Pippin had told her what had happened and she was mortified, literally begging forgiveness at Aragorn's feet.

It went on until Weathertop, where she and her master had gone off scouting. She had known as well not to change anything, but it was still so difficult as she knew even more than Avon did about what was going to happen, even though it was becoming dimmer as time passed…or so she said. When the Black Riders had come, she had received a slash across her back from one of the swords, not a poison ridden one like what Frodo got though, but enough to nearly kill her anyway from the blood loss and shock of such a dark weapon.

Aragorn had nearly found the truth about her at this time, but she had neatly avoided it, using some bull excuse about some tattoo she had on the front of her body that was sacred, and no one but her own kind could see it. It was good enough so Aragorn never checked and no one was the wiser, even if now and then some hobbit tried to sneak a peek when she was bathing in the occasional stream or lake. Was the man really that dumb?

Avon then questioned her about how she managed to hide other things about her female status, blushing a bit at this point even though they were both grown up and could handle such things with maturity.

She looked at him a little sadly. "Avon, after the…accident, they took everything, I mean _everything_. I have no problems with it anymore, never again." She sighed, looking away for a moment to gaze over the gardens beneath them. "I've also mastered the art of shaving with a knife."

"Huh?" Those words had caught him a little off guard and he questioned her with his eyes. She smiled a little and took his hand, placing it on her face, deliberately on the other unharmed cheek.

"See how smooth I am, you'd think I was a girl."

"But you ARE a…" he paused before his face brightened with realization, he knew that she had to hide why she was not as scraggly as the rest of the men, even though it was plain that the outdoor life had hit her once soft skin very hard. It was now tough and slightly leathery under his touch and he smiled sadly at the little creases around her eyes, this whole thing was aging her, as it was probably him.

"You need to learn it too, pretty soon." She reached up and tickled him under the chin, reacting a snorted giggle on Avon's behalf.

"You try and sit in the saddle for weeks on end without a bath, and see how far you get." He poked her in the stomach and she poked him back, laughing. They continued to do this for a short while until there was a creak of a door opening and the golden light of a torch spilled into the room.

"Ah there you are. Come we are all gathering in the Hall of Fire, the dwarf Gloin wishes to have more entertainment and you two seem to have caught his fancy. As you have mine."

Avon and Mel turned to see an amused looking elf standing in the door, his dark hair spilled over his shoulders; blending nicely into the dark lavender robes he was wearing.

"Lindir! How nice it is to see you without your face stuffed with food." Mel gave Avon a final poke and walked sedately over to the door, motioning for Avon to follow her. The elf grinned.

"Ah, but if you had been watching closely, it was so the two young hobbits would not question me anymore, that they might turn their attention to someone else."

Avon was sure that this was the first elf he had met since coming here that actually smiled, with teeth showing. He liked it but ducked under the hand that was aimed for his back, if the guy wanted a slap as well it was the perfect way of going about it.

"Ah yes, poor Legolas will have hand prints for many days to come." Lindir laughed, as he led them to the great hall.

"Legolas?" Avon looked over at Mel and saw a look of pure mortification. He grinned openly; she had walloped the very guy she had always wanted to meet for the last several years. He would never let her live it down.

"Don't worry Mel, I'm sure he'll still like you enough later on, that is if he's not too scared of ya." He whispered in her ear but did not count for the sensitive ears of the elf.

"Mel? Why does this man call you so, Samson? I heard it also in the banquet hall, it is strange."

"It's short for friend, Mellon. Avon calls me that always, as I call him Von sometimes." Mel said quickly, giving Avon a look that said 'I'll explain later'.

He understood and continued to follow the elf in silence, the sounds of music and people laughing and talking were getting louder until they reached huge double doors that had been thrown open for anyone who wanted to enter. Avon saw a sight he wouldn't forget very soon.

The huge hall was lit by only the long fireplace running along the entire length, it had tapestries hanging everywhere depicting some historical event or another and they were remarkably well done, almost like the renaissance period.

Interesting.

There were huge carved pillars that ran down next to the fire and they seemed to also have stories engraved in them, nearly everything in this world had to have some kind of meaning, and all decorations were no exception. Avon's eyes were wide as he tried to take everything in, he felt that if he should never go home, never see his family and friends again; this is where he would stay, where he would make his new home.

"Ah hah! There they are! I told you they wouldn't be able to resist coming back for more." Avon felt his face go very hot as a large group of people, mostly elves and two dwarves, turned to him and Mel, smiling and waving for them to join their throng. He felt his friend tremble a little before she ran to them, throwing her arms out wide to hug as many of them as possible. She seemingly had made many friends since arriving, and so far he had only spoken to Lindir and Legolas; he hadn't been there long enough and anyway, Mel just had the natural knack for it all.

Avon laughed. "Mel! You don't have to strangle him, I'm sure he knows you're sorry." He laughed again as she released the gasping elf, going red in the face from maybe overdoing it a little.

Legolas made a show of grabbing his neck, as though to make it look like she really HAD suffocated him and he was barely holding on to life, before he stopped and grinned. The guy actually had personality.

"It is ok. I am very sure now that he wants to do away with me, I can only hope that the other is less aggressive?" He cast a hopeful look towards Avon, and he responded by being as spontaneous as possible and jumped up from the chair he had been given. The others looked at him in amusement as he promptly leaped into the elf's lap and hugged him, going as far as to give him a thorough noogie before leaping back into his own chair, acting as though nothing unusual had happened.

Everyone laughed and the two dwarves clapped and cheered for more. Legolas looked positively stricken dumb as he sat still, peering out from behind his tussled long hair with frightened eyes, and eyed him and Mel closely as she pulled up a chair next to Avon.

There were cheers for more, Avon had no idea what to do, he defiantly would not sing again or by his knowledge, they would never let him go until he explained what the songs meant. How could he tell them about 'Gospel', and 'Disney'? They were all he knew. Mel helped him by leaning over and whispering in his ear.

"Avon, lets give 'em a taste of the good stuff."

"And what might that be, dear friend?" He grinned; he knew what she was talking about.

"A bit 'o Monty Python might do the trick."

Avon nodded and quickly stood on his chair, wincing slightly as the movement pulled on his back muscles. He had been slightly overdoing it tonight.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" He called, making sure he got everyone's attention in the hall. The gentle music faltered and all eyes turned to him, he was glad for acting class. "Elves, Elvesses…" some laughed softly at his attempt at etiquette. "…Lords, Princes…" He looked at Legolas who was re-braiding his hair, continually eying him and ignoring the jests and nudges from his surrounding companions. "…Men and dwarves!"

"Don't forget us hobbits!" A piping voice called from a corner and Avon grinned. "Sorry…Hobbits. Are there any other I may have forgotten!?" he received silence, so he continued.

"My friend M…Samson and I have a little presentation up our sleeves, seeing that there are some who wish for a good laugh we hope that this may help and let us rest for once." He got some laughter for this comment. "It is a small segment from a play a man called Monty in our land wrote, if you don't understand some bits, please tell us. We don't know what you consider as funny here…oh! By the way, we need a volunteer or two to help us!"

There was more silence and Avon wondered if this was going a bit out of their league, when a deep voice boomed out.

"I will join this little endeavour, but it is only because I have been taught by my charge of what this play is. It is very interesting to be sure."

A dark haired man strode into the flickering light of the fire. Avon looked down and saw Mel's face light up. Oh please, please don't tell me she taught him…

"The Holy Grail, though I have no clue as it's significance, that is the name of the play. Samson has taught me a few lines and I am willing to contribute." Aragorn walked up to them with a tired but genuine smile on his face, it was the first sign that maybe the two of them might be changing things in this world a bit much, for the better, or worse he had no idea. But Mel interrupted and waved him down, she knew about something that was meant to happen.

"No, I think you need to make yourself known to our newly awakened friend. He is over there, with Bilbo I think." She waved over to a dark corner where Avon could see three little figures huddled together; he knew it must be something from the book she didn't want to change. Aragorn smiled at her then walked away, leaving Avon to ponder a bit.

"We'll need someone else then." He shrugged at Mel, who else could've she taught?

"I'll do it!" A little person only coming up to Avon's waist as he dismounted from his chair came running up, a little flustered from coming too close to the fire and from embarrassment at so many people staring at him. It didn't last.

"Merry, you wanna be the "dying man" instead?" The hobbit nodded vigorously at Mel and grinned, his enthusiasm made many chuckle and Avon quickly got some props together, trying to make some kind of set. This was going to be fun.

"Bring out your dead!" Avon had thrown on a borrowed robe from one of the elves and it was way to long for him, trailing over the ground behind him as he pushed a chair in front, making it look like he was pushing a cart.

"Here's one." Mel came from the behind the pillar she had been hiding behind and plopped a small wrapped up bundle on the chair, she tried to keep her face straight as the bundle wiggled and squirmed.

"That'll be nine coppers." Avon also tried not to laugh as Merry's voice piped out from within the bundle, a little muffled.

"I'm not dead!" he squeaked, making someone snort with suppressed laughter from the back of the crowd. Avon could only guess it was Pippin.

He tried to look confused, thank you acting school. "What?"

"Nothing, here's your coppers." Mel acted the nonchalance very convincingly and pressed some imaginary money into his hand. Merry finally struggled free and his little face peeked out, curly hair framing it nicely.

"I'm not dead!" He called out, maybe a little too loud and quiet laughter tittered through the crowd.

"'Ere. He says he's not dead!" Avon gave him a poke and started to unwrap him, Mel stopped him and pulled the wrapping back firmly around the hobbit

"Yes, he is."

"Am not!" Merry was trying not to grin, so his face contorted into a lopsided frown which made more laugh. The words were almost not needed.

"Well, he will be soon, he's very ill." Mel pouted and popped the struggling hobbit back further onto the chair. She misjudged how far to put him though and he promptly fell off the other side, crumpling in a heap. Someone whooped in laughter and Avon was about to help him back up when he did a Houdini and leaped out of the wrapping, dancing around the chair.

"See! I'm getting better!" he stuck his tongue out at Mel and she did the same back to him, the laughter was becoming more real.

"No, you're not. You'll be stone dead in a moment." She reached out to grab him but he darted away, running into Avon and hugging him round the waist.

"Oh, I can't take him like that, it's against regulations." He tried to push Merry away but he didn't let go, Avon couldn't tell him how much it was hurting with him dragging on his clothes, so he tried to grit his teeth and act funny.

"I don't want to go on the cart!" He squealed as Mel tried to grab him again, this time he wrapped his legs around Avon as well and the awkward weight finally made him topple to the ground. Mel kept it up.

"Oh, don't be such a baby."

"I can't take him." Avon's protests sounded very real, the room was sounding with approval at their acting. But then there was a lag, Merry had forgotten his lines and he was standing dumbly, looking about with confusion on his face and was scratching his head, trying to remember.

"I feel fine." Mel whispered, leaning over so he could hear her.

"I feel fine!" The hobbit yelled and clamped his hands over his mouth, going red for forgetting in the first place and for overreacting a little.

"Well, can you hang around a couple of minutes?" She tapped her foot impatiently. "He won't be long." There was a good response for that one and Mel grinned a little, she loved a good audience.

"No, I've got to go to the Robinsons'. They've lost nine today." Avon was still on the floor and the hobbit had reattached himself to him, he was vainly trying to free himself.

"Well, when's your next round?" Mel asked, taking off one of her boots and handing it to Avon, she then sat on the chair and started to inspect her foot for something and he realized she had just handed him the perfect prop.

"Thursday." He answered, finally pushing the hobbit away and giving him the cue for his line.

"I think I'll go for a walk." He started to walk away and Mel grabbed his arm, nearly pulling the little guy off his feet. Some of the elves were holding their stomachs in laughter, they had obviously never seen something like this before and it was unusually funny for them. A rugged dwarf was slapping his thigh and leaning eagerly forward, he seemed to be enjoying himself too.

Mel grabbed the discarded cloth and started to wrap him up again, Merry struggling and squirming the entire way. "You're not fooling anyone, you know. Look, isn't there something you can do?"

Merry wriggled out of her grip and ran back to Avon, gripping him once more and started to whistle something that was so out of tune and so harsh, that more than one elf covered their ears. Then he started to sing something about being happy and well, and it was almost no acting when Avon brought Mel's boot heel down and knocked him smartly on his head. Merry crumpled to the floor and Mel picked him up, wrapping him back in the cloth and putting him back on the chair.

"Ah, thanks very much." She sighed with exaggerated relief and Avon got up from the floor.

"Not at all. See you on Thursday." He started pushing the chair again but had to lean fully into it, the hobbit wasn't as light as he looked.

"Right. All right." Mel waved at him but as she was turning around to walk off, there was a crash and thump and sounds of 'sorry'. The audience stood and applauded as the crumpled man and hobbit struggled to disentangle themselves from one another. The chair lay a short distance away on it's side and Avon was trying to untangle the robe from around his feet, while Merry was trying to do the same with the cloth.

"That wasn't very nice." The hobbit growled a little and rubbed his head.

"I didn't know the floor was that slippery!" Avon whined a bit before smiling. "Anyway, you can blame the elf who gave these clothes to me." He tugged the robe over his head and heard a little gasp of surprise coming from the hobbit.

"Lord Elrond! Sorry about the chair but it's not my fault at all, you see…"

"It is all right little one, I merely came over to retrieve my clothes. If they are still in one piece of course." The soft deep voice made Avon freeze, he pulled the robe clean over his head and grinned sheepishly at the elf lord standing over him. How the heck could he be wearing clothes of a flippin lord?

He quickly got up, ignoring the spasms of pain rippling down his back and bowed a little awkwardly, holding the garment on outstretched arms.

"Um, they're not ripped, promise."

Elrond smiled and took the robe from him, folding it neatly and tucking it under his arm. "It is too hot in here for that anyhow. Are you wishing to stay or will you retire? I know that you arrived only a few hours ago and may be in need of rest, though the night is still young and there is much more entertainment to be had." He laid a hand on Avon's shoulder and he shook his head.

"No, I'm really tired and I need to find some food. Haven't eaten for days, literally." He smiled as Elrond showed him to another elf that would get something for him, and then take it to his chambers. The lord then left him to his own devices and he didn't try looking for Mel, he just needed to get out of the hall as quickly as possible before it was too late.

The pain had started to build when Merry had first hung off him, since then it had escalated into blinding stabs of agony that only his pride and acting skills had managed to hide. It felt like his back was being torn in two and he started to run, if a little stiffly, out the doors and into the cool darker corridor, breathing heavily through gritted teeth as he leaned against a wall.

"Avon, you never told me your side of the story." Mel's voice startled him and he jumped around, her concerned eyes questioned him and he sighed.

"It's not as bad as yours, I thought it was until you told me and I thought I could of lost you, forever." He gripped her shoulders and she stared up at him sadly.

"I still want to hear it."

He sighed and told her everything, from when he had first landed to the attack from the Orcs, even the part about him being shy and the others not knowing what the heck he was going on about.

"They don't understand, we can't tell them about…things like that." She bit her bottom lip and twisted the ring on her finger absentmindedly. Avon noticed and decided to press on the issue.

"He'll never come back you know."

"I know that!" She snapped, before lowering her eyes and taking the ring off, looking at it quietly between her thumb and forefinger before slipping it back on.

"You have to let go…he'll always keep you back otherwise." He pleaded, taking her hand and holding it with reassurance. "Mel, it's been three years."

"I know…I just kinda, well. Hoped for a bit, that he'd be just around the corner or over in America visiting family and I'd see him again. It was just too damn sudden, too quick…I never even said goodbye." Avon saw in the dim light a single tear drop from her eyes before he felt her tense up, she hadn't even cried at the funeral, family had told him that much and it was all because of the almost habitual strength. He could almost feel it eating her up from the inside.

"I'm going back in, will you be alright with…you know?" Her face had that steel look again and he gave up, nodding at the question and rotating his shoulders.

"Yeah, Boro will make sure I sleep and all."

"Boro? Oh please don't tell me you're giving them nicknames?" She looked annoyed and he gave her an incredulous look.

"What! And you teaching them Monty Python isn't as bad?" he laughed slightly as she groaned and threw up her hands in defeat.

"Whatever! You coming to the council tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. Actually, I'm starting to like this place, even though here my birthday doesn't come for another two months. Guess what Mel, I'm 25."

"And I'm 26, you'll never beat me Von." She laughed then stopped suddenly. "Oh damn!"

"What!" he looked at her in confusion as she tapped out something on her fingers.

"We've missed Christmas by nearly a month, why couldn't we have got here at the same time of year?" she groaned and Avon grinned.

"Hey, at least we can celebrate it together, if we're here that long. I suppose you've already tried Gandalf?" he watched her nod and bite her lip again.

"He doesn't know about us, I just asked him hypothetically if his 'powers could venture out into other dimensions'. He thinks I'm some kind of nut for that." They both laughed a little and Avon winced again, the pain was still harsh and Mel noticed.

"Go and get that checked out." She smiled slightly and turned; ready to walk back to the hall. The sounds of a very enlightening chant were drifting out and he noticed her posture becoming straighter.

_Eärendil was a mariner_

_that tarried in Avernien;_

_he built a boat of timber felled_

_in Nimbrethil to journey in…_

"That's Bilbo, gotta go!" she waved to him and ran back down the corridor, skidding a little before slowing down and walking sedately into the hall. He smiled before going in the opposite direction, muscles spasming with every step until he finally made it back to his and Boromir's quarters.

"Boromir." He sighed as he pushed open the door. The man was by his side in seconds even though it was clear he had been fast asleep just before Avon came. He tut-tutted as he led him to the bed, making him lie on his stomach so he could check his back.

"Avon!" He heard the man gasp a little and looked at him sideways. The other man brought his hand close to Avon's face and he saw it had blood over it.

"It's reopened! What in blazes name were you thinking? Now I have to…" Avon fell asleep while the man redressed the arrow wound; he was a fast healer, but apparently not fast enough. He had to wake up early though so he did a little trick Mel had taught him.

'6am, 6am, 6am, 6am, 6am…' he repeated the time in his head until it lost all meaning and became a blurry noise like 'sessayam'. He hoped it wasn't some kind of food or he'll be craving for it weeks to come, sometimes those little tricks got slightly out of hand.

Tbc…

A/N: Again the reviews are excellent. I'll be replying to reviews again properly after I finish all this darned rehashing. Unfortunately my father got sick again. He has cancer that's in remission but it's coming back bit by bit and so most of my time is spent worrying about him and working for my move to England. It's been 5 months since my last rehash…I can't believe I started writing again.

Be well

Vana E


	6. A Disturbing Council

Ok, I've found the cure for 'Writer's Cramp'; 'Writer's Block'. Yes, it is official, I have writers block and this story is becoming longer and longer as time moves on. I'm getting the feeling that I am going to give a chapter for every major event throughout the books and I assure you, it will not be the same. This story, I've made it incredibly bookverse as I couldn't really grasp much information from the movie, but at the same time, there are things that are movieverse just to make it easier for those who are not too familiar with the books. Hee hee. AU, here we come.

Oh, by the way. OFUM has taught me again and again NOT to have a Fellowship of more than 9 people, Mel thinks the same, she went there too.

* * * *

Here you are O loyal readers.

CHAP 6

The council. Ok, so he had done the little trick and somehow he was still running late. Boromir was waiting impatiently on the other side of the door and Avon could hear his feet tapping as he paced back and forth, waiting for him to finish getting brushed up. Avon had refused to go to something so important and solemn with his current appearance and had demanded to at least have his hair cut and face clean-shaven. The elves kept very few shaving items as they never needed them, but he had managed to scrounge up something and having the use of a distorted, yet still usable mirror made it much easier without all the nicks.

Finally he burst through the door, thumping into Boromir in his hurry.

"Oh, so you wish to come with me now? I was almost going to just leave without you, and I still do not know how you can possibly manage to do that." The man pointed despairingly at Avon's bare face and majorly shortened hair and he grinned as they walked to the meeting place.

"It's what we do in our culture." He heard a quiet groan and laughed inwardly, men here were too conscious of their hair. Even the elves with all those braids and annoying hippie looks, he would never be able to live for long with something hanging down the back of his neck, it looked itchy and he wondered how girls coped. This brought him back to Mel, she had once had long hair that went past her hips and she would have to tie it in a bun or braid it up to stop herself from sitting on it. He smiled quietly when he remembered dating her, she would pull it back in a ponytail and then wrap it round both of their necks like a scarf, it itched like crazy but it sure was warm.

Then the thoughts turned sad as he remembered the day she had cut it all off, depression had gotten it's icy grip on her and it had been hacked back to nearly nothing. It was that day that made him realize they shared more than just a past, they shared a present and it would never end, ever.

Good thoughts, bad thoughts; they all quickly diminished as he walked outside in the sun for the first time, the sights taking his breath away once more. The gardens sprawled before them like a picture taken out of one of Tolkien's novels, the whole effect and mood had been captured and he felt very much out of place amongst so much serenity and joy. Life, it was the essence of life, the whole area filled with waterfalls and huge trees blending into the very structure of the building, branches intertwining into wooden pillars to hold a segment of roof up and yellowing autumn leaves dropping to become part of the floor, as if everything belonged and had it's place. Magic existed all right, and he was smack bang in the middle of it.

Boromir led him to a closed off area of a porch that was obviously made so prying eyes couldn't easily see what was happening, the surroundings were different to the movie, but had the same quality of mystery and suspense as they approached the waiting group of people. They were in a semicircle sitting on chairs and a large empty, yet decidedly comfortable looking one stood at the head facing them all. A few other chairs were empty too and Avon sighed in relief, they were early. He saw Aragorn sitting and he nodded in acknowledgement of Avon's presence, somehow Mel had wiggled her way into the council as well and she sat next to him dutifully, holding a leather scabbard with a sword on her lap as if she was taking care of it for her "master". She looked up and said hello with her eyes, there was silence all round and the doom and gloom that hung over everyone seemed to make talking out of place. There were the two dwarves Avon had met, and the white bearded one's face lit up, if only slightly, at the sight of Avon coming to join them; the events from the feast were not going to be forgotten easily. Then there was an elf that he recognised, but didn't know from where. He thought hard as he and Boromir found their own place before it finally tweaked, he was the elf who had saved them from the Orcs, with many others of course. He hadn't even thanked the guy yet and he hoped his expression did it, but the elf barely noticed them as he spoke quietly to another one next to him. There were more but Avon only recognised Legolas who was rubbing his temples, he seemed to have something on his mind and it didn't look good. He couldn't remember what happened at the council, Mel had more of a mind for that but when he looked over to her for reassurance, her confused and slightly bewildered expression didn't do a darn thing to comfort him, she was forgetting too.

Finally Elrond came and sat down silently, giving everyone a welcome nod and he smiled slightly at Avon as he blushed, the night before was actually more humiliating than anything now that he thought of it. The elf lord then pulled a rope that hung from an arch just behind him, a single clear bell rang out and Avon noticed Mel's face light up, she was remembering something. After a short while there was a patter of little feet and two little men…er…hobbits walked in, one was very much older and greyer and Avon concluded that it was Bilbo, the other one looked so frightened and small that he could almost imagine Mel swooping him up in a hug of comfort, it would be so typical. Then Avon got a shock, he expected Gandalf to be tall, powerful and old, but this was just plain scary. The man was shorter than the elves but literally had the air around him rippling with an enormous amount of suppressed power and energy. His glowering eyes turned to him and they fixed, the games with Mel helped a little but it was soon too much to handle and he dropped his eyes, how could the hobbits be so complacent around him?

"This is Glorfindel, you know him, Gloin's son Gimli over there and Gloin, I suppose you have met?" Avon looked up and watched Gandalf point out the different people to the small one, Frodo. He watched him and soaked up the names; Galdor from the Grey Havens, that was the one who had saved them and he knew he had to thank him soon…then the one next to him, he was an elf called Erestor and a few others who's names he couldn't catch.

Then Elrond's voice cut through and he stood up.

"And here is Boromir, a man from the South. He has come for council and I have bidden him and his riding companion present, for here his questions shall be answered." All eyes turned to them and Avon quickly made himself small and insignificant, he didn't want to draw attention away from his friend, he would be the one going on the quest anyway.

The quest, the ring, he would die. He looked sharply at Frodo who was now settling down in his seat, and wondered if the ring had some kind of power to get them home. Then a voice rang through his head and he remembered what Mel had told him years before, though it seemed really 'out of this world' and strange at the time.

***"Avon, it's not like I'm an expert at stuff like this. But I know from experience that the ring is only used by the Dark Lord, it can't be wielded by anyone else and even if it had some hidden power in it somewhere, it can't be used by a mere mortal. Look, take it from an avid fan-fiction reader alias writer, every time the ring had something to do with an extra power, it sucked. The whole story sucked to put it bluntly, it just doesn't work and don't you dare roll your eyes at me, I know what I'm talking about."***

So it was hopeless, the whole thing was just darn hopeless. His friend would die, he would be stuck here forever and there was nothing he could do about it…nothing? He sat for a while, wrapped up in his own thoughts and not even trying to listen to what was being said, he knew it was important or they wouldn't be saying it, but something had come to mind. Boromir didn't have to die, it wouldn't change anything if he lived, he could go and stop it from happening and just keep everything else the same. Maybe he could slip off after the part where Boromir was meant to die and let the adventure continue for the rest of them while he went back to Rivendell. It was perfect. 

"So this is what became of the Ring." Boromir's sharp voice cut through his thoughts and he jumped a little, looking over at his friend who looked slightly over exuberant. "If ever a tale was told in the South, it has long been forgotten. I have heard of the Great Ring of him that we do not name; but we believed that it perished from the world in the ruin of his first realm. Isildur took it! This is tidings indeed."

"Alas! Yes. Isildur took it, as it should not have been…" Elrond's voice droned and blended in with the surrounding outdoor noises, Avon was getting bored really quickly and he leaned back in his chair, inspecting his nails before glancing over to Mel. She the same tired expression on her face he probably did, they knew the outcome to this whole council, all they had to wait for now was for Frodo to present the ring so things could be decided. There was so many words, the Autumn was starting to look pretty far off as the sun beat down on them and Avon shifted in his seat, his clothes were starting to feel hot and sticky.

Then it was Boromir's turn to speak and Avon listened only half heartedly, wondering when exactly would this damn ring be brought out. As the man spoke about how he had fought at Osgiliath and only survived with two others and his brother, Avon almost went onto his knees, praying that he wouldn't mention how they had found him nearly choking the great Faramir to death. But he skipped over that and Avon sighed quietly in relief, his obscurity was still intact and he looked over to Mel. She smiled softly, but squirmed a little in her seat from the building heat. 

They had all (except the hobbits) brought some kind of weapon to the meeting; most were to just show off, like the dwarves' axes, but others were just part of their general look, to present a skill of some sort. The elves all had arrangements of knives at their sides except for Elrond, it probably would look stupid with his robes and all. Aragorn had a sword, so Avon concluded that the one Mel was holding was none other than the broken one, of which name he could not for the life of him remember. Boromir had his sword so it left both him and Mel, if they weren't so quiet they would have been noticed as being alike in more ways than one. Clean "shaven" faces, short hair, strange behaviour and their thick strong staffs; Avon carried his everywhere and it had been with him since he had left his own world. Mel somehow had hers and he would have to ask her later how that came to be, somehow these were the only links they had left to their home, even their old clothes were a mess to be unrecognised and they had been given fresh ones by the elves. He could see her squirming and noticed that she was carefully un-strapping her staff from her back to make sitting more comfortable, now that all attention was being directed at Boromir, she could make movements that would usually bring the attention to herself. Avon just sat and waited.

Then Boromir spoke the words of the riddle and Avon mouthed it quietly…the sword that was broken, the council, the token of doom and the Halfling…the whole thing seemed to sum it up, like a prophecy of some sort. He sat pondering over this a little longer, chin in his hand he leant forward, trying to find something in it that he might of missed; he had tried so many times before.

Suddenly Aragorn stood up and grabbed the sword from Mel's lap, it seemed to surprise her and she stood up abruptly, standing behind the man as he took the sword out and put the pieces on the stone table.

"Here is the sword that was broken." He said. Avon saw Boromir shake his head at the man.

"What would a ranger know of such matters?" Huh? Wasn't that from the movie? "And what do you have to do with Minas Tirith?" he continued, Avon could see his annoyance and watched with a little impatience himself as Elrond started telling him about Aragorn being Isildur's heir and all.

Avon looked over to Mel and they locked eyes, some message was being passed between them and he realized that they were being drawn into the world, there was no escaping it and they had to help in some way.

"Bring forth the ring, Frodo. Hold it up so Boromir may know the remainder of his riddle."

There was an eerie silence, Avon could almost feel something in the air, like humidity without the heat. It was stifling and he pulled at his collar, Frodo was walking out into the middle and he put something on the table, something round and gold and very very pretty. He couldn't take his eyes off it, only a few months ago he would have thought it nuts that you could be hypnotized by a ring, but this thing was proving himself wrong. The darn thing was pure evil and it was calling him, giving him choices like he'd never thought he could ever have, it was making him batty and he shook his head, trying to make himself think straight. It didn't work and the gold glinted in the sunlight, it defiantly was saying something to him but in a twisted language, he listened and listened but the words repeated themselves over and over until he could almost know them off by heart.

"Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul."

"Never before has any voice dared to utter words of that tongue in Imladris, Gandalf." Elrond's voice startled him and he blinked, looking around as if he had been asleep. He was confused, it seemed even brighter than before and he glanced up at the sky, the sun was nearly directly overhead. How the heck did it get there so quick, wasn't it still coming up over those higher balconies last time he checked?

He looked over to Mel, she was staring right back at him and he blinked again, was she angry at him or was that a frown caused by the heat? He squinted and continued to look around, completely confused and disorientated, what the bloody heck had happened to him? He barely heard Gandalf say something and he only focused on it because he said it was something to do directly with the ring.

"One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them."

He chanted, then started talking about a little creature called Gollum. Avon shivered, he knew about that little 'Thing', from what he'd seen on screen, read once or twice in books and heard mostly from Mel. He was a slippery, slimy, no good smelly son of a bitch. Gandalf was saying he was in prison, by the elves of Mirkwood and then he heard a very familier voice speak.

"Alas! Alas! Sméagol who is now called Gollum, has escaped from us. I was told to bring these tidings of great woe since I now know how evil they are to this company." Legolas was wringing his hands and more than one face turned on him, a little angry.

Escaped? The Thing had escaped? There was something in his stomach, he wanted to throw up but instead he fixed his eyes back on the ring and was drawn in again. 

Ash nazg, Ash nazg, Ash nazg, Ash nazg… the words rolled round and round in his mind until he felt dizzy, he was doing this to himself, he must be, no way could a piece of metal be telling him something. Could it?

There was fire now around the gold and he leaned forward unconsciously, knowing that someone was staring at him but he ignore it and continued to gaze at the beautiful golden ring. It wouldn't take him home, it would never save the world, so why was he becoming so attached to it? 

Like a drug. The thought snapped him back and he fell back into his chair, breathing heavily. Someone put a heavy hand on his shoulder and he looked up, surprised to see Boromir leaning over him with a distinct worried look on his face. 

"Are you alright my friend?" he looked up at the man and tried to speak, but nothing would come out except a harsh whisper. He tugged at his collar and tried again, but his throat felt so dry it was almost like a desert had found a way into his mouth.

"It is getting hot for you isn't it. I'll get some water and you may refresh yourself." He looked around and saw Elrond grabbing a pitcher from the table, he then poured some water into a goblet that sat nearby and gave it to him. He took it eagerly and swallowed the whole lot in one gulp; he had never been this thirsty before.

"There, I thought as much." The elf lord smiled and turned back to business, the others who had stopped to watch also continued to listen and suddenly all was silent. He had just asked for messengers to go with the ring to Mount Doom, no one was volunteering straight away. A bell tolled 12 times.

Noon bell? He looked up at the sky again and saw even more time had passed, had he been spending the whole time staring at that damn ring? No way!

"I will take it. I will take the ring. Though I do not know the way." He started a bit. The little hobbit was shaking like a leaf but he was standing out in front of everyone, telling them he was going to go on a suicide mission and could they give him a map. Man the guy was brave.

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins. As long as it is yours to bear." Gandalf made his way slowly to the little guy's side and placed his hands on his small shoulders. Frodo looked up at him gratefully before Aragorn also got up, Mel looked confused as she leaned forward in her chair, and Avon soon found out why. 

"If by my life or death, if I can protect you, I will." He knelt down next to hobbit and Avon frowned, this was way too familier, like…oh no, not the movie. But the movie had been a cut down version of the book, the real story was written by Tolkien, not by some wacko film producer. 

"You have my sword." He continued and Avon squirmed a little, he could almost predict what would happen next but was pleasantly surprised when it turned out a little differently. 

Legolas was hesitating, he could see it out of the corner of his eyes and Avon raised his hand, just a little but enough to get the elf's attention. He looked at the hand, then felt his cheek subconsciously as if remembering the slap his hand had given him. 

"You have my axe." Gimli had already gotten up and was now standing next to Frodo, a satisfied smirk on his face as he eyed the elf. Avon didn't have a clue why Legolas was so hesitant.

"And you have my bow." He nearly jumped out of his seat in shock when the elf finally said that. Looking over to Mel he noticed she had risen her hand a little as well, giving him the impression that Legolas had seen it and had added two and two together. He was going to be slapped again if he didn't make up his mind right there and then, so he chose the right way.

"I think the council is decided, Gondor will see it done." Boromir stepped out and Avon felt something rise in his chest, he needed to make his choice now or it would all be for nothing. Choices, so many choices and he looked over to Mel.

It was decided right there and then as their eyes met, they had to do it, together or not at all and they stood simultaneously, un-sliding their staffs from the holders and taking a deliberate step forward together. The others looked up in slight surprise and Avon noticed Boromir and Aragorn frown, they were probably thinking they were too young but he didn't care.

They then both held the staffs horizontally at arms length, coming in front of Frodo before both kneeling down at the same time, bowing their heads like Avon had seen knighted people on TV do. They were doing everything together and it was the strangest thing he had ever experienced, weird yet thrilling at the same time.

They were silent, how do you stop making something from becoming totally cliché? Just don't say a damn word and things are usually decided from there. Finally he sensed movement and lifted his head to see Mel do the same, they both looked into Frodo's eyes and Avon saw him nod, with a touch of thanks of the side of all that worry. They got up together and stood to the side, there was no turning back now and he suddenly felt scared, this whole thing might have been a front to hide something. Weakness maybe, he didn't know. What he did know was that something was boring into his back, he knew what he was…the ring was calling him again and he tried to ignore it as it lay on that table, so pretty, so…

"Oi! You're not sending him without me now sir?" Avon smiled at the distracting, very chubby hobbit who plodded up, if a little breathlessly next to Frodo, looking around as if to make anyone defy him. Avon felt like laughing as Elrond scolded him a little, telling him it would be impossible to separate them even if he tried seeing this was a secret council, was it not?

"Hey! We're coming too." Ok, that was unexpected. He watched even more confused as the two other hobbits ran up and Avon heard a whoop of laughter coming from the side. He turned and saw Bilbo holding his stomach, trying to keep it in very unsuccessfully. He then looked at Mel and was even more surprised by the grin she was trying to hide, he got his answers when she leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"I couldn't resist, I HAD to tell them where it was. I never knew it would run this close to the movie though while everything else seems ok. But I've gotta talk to you later Mister I'm A Little Thirsty." She added, giving him a warning frown before Elrond announced the final decision.

"11 companions…"

"No, 9!" Everyone turned to Mel in surprise and Avon realised that neither of them had spoken a word throughout the whole thing, it was the first thing she had openly said the whole day.

"I beg you pardon? Surely you can see there are…"

"I said 9. There are nine companions and two tag-along bag carrying servants. Nine to match the number of Black Riders and to help balance it out a little, the two just help out a little with their appropriate masters before going on their way. We will do what we can before our time is up, but it must be recorded as being 9 companions, for 9 riders." She thumped the end of her staff into the ground and put her other hand on her hip, giving the same kind of look Sam had before about the decision being final. Avon did the same but not as outwardly, maybe SHE should be the leader here.

"Hmm, it makes sense. Very well, 9 companions for 9 riders. Two to go along until they are needed elsewhere…you shall all be named the Fellowship of the Ring."

Avon smiled grimly; if Pippin was going to say his line he knew what he had to do. The little hobbit was standing directly in front of him and his back was perfectly lined up with his knee.

"Great, where are we…ow." Avon kneed him and then stood back, whistling quietly as the hobbit turned around and glared at him, before looking back at Elrond.

"Where are we going sir?" Everyone looked at Pippin in bewilderment then turned and stared at Avon as he groaned, holding his forehead in his hand. Some things needed a little more force in this world, and these clichés were one of them. Could he go home now?

* * * *

"Lord Elrond! You must come quick, they are fighting!"

"Who is?" Gandalf turned to the little hobbit who had burst into Elrond's study where the wizard and the elf were discussing important matters. Pippin cowered a little under the glowering look but spoke quickly.

"Legolas the elf and the two servant men, they are fighting with each other and I think one of them is really hurt." He dashed out again and the elf lord and Istari followed, trying to keep up with the scampering little hobbit.

"Not good enough for us are we now, elf!" The voice rang out and a loud grunt came from outside as the three people hurried out the wide doors and made their way down the steps that led to the garden. A large group of elves had gathered over near a pavilion and the two taller ones stopped and stared, Pippin simply ran on and squirmed in-between the other elves to stand next to his cousin, wringing his hands in worry.

Avon gritted his teeth and blocked the long knife that came slashing down in an aim for his neck, with his staff. The blade lodged into the wood slightly and Avon twirled the staff, trying to whip the weapon from the elf's hands but he was unsuccessful and Legolas pulled away, dislodging the knife and wheeling round to face Mel. She started raining a series of hits at the elf and he crisscrossed his twin knives in front of him, catching the wooden pole mere inches from his face before scissoring them upwards and nearly launching the pole into orbit. She caught it neatly and twirled it again to stop Avon from whopping her behind the knees, the impact jarred his arms and he blinked out the sweat coursing down his face before facing the elf once more.

They were fighting each other, not on any team but their own and each was trying to fight off two others at the same time. It was an interesting combination and Avon couldn't resist yelling out another insult as the elf spun around, knocking both their staffs away with a knife in each hand, arms outstretched on either side; they were on a standoff.

"Are you finished yet? Or do you want more punishment Leggy!" He gave a slight snort of laughter at Mel's expression, she was peeved at him giving everyone nicknames and she showed it now as her eyes darkened and she lunged forward. Avon anticipated the move but Legolas didn't know what to do, he was caught between two whirlwinds and he looked uncharacteristically flustered with his long hair tousled everywhere and sweat beading his face. So elves COULD sweat if pushed hard enough.

Mel dropped the staff and jumped as the knife flashed under her, drawing her knees up as Avon tried to get past the raging elf to catch her in a weak spot. He ducked quickly as the other knife swiped the exact spot his ear would have been; they weren't playing friendlies, that had been established at the beginning. He also dropped his staff and caught Legolas by surprise, as his elbow seemed to come from nowhere to catch him under the chin. His head snapped back and he gave a slight noise of pain while Avon slipped past him undetected. Mel had landed and now she and Avon stood facing each other, breathing heavily as they tried to pick out the right time to strike, like now. 

"Aiya!" Mel yelled and her leg snapped out, aiming for a blow to his stomach that would of knocked every inch of breath out of him. Avon hopped back a little and grabbed her ankle in mid flight, twisting it quickly so she had no choice but to follow if she didn't want it broken.

Damn, it didn't work, he thought, as she spun through the air and landed flat on the ground, only to leap up again and aimed another kick for his head. He needed to cause some kind of injury or she would never let up on the fact he couldn't touch her, while she could give him a battering he wouldn't forget. The bruises that now coated his arms and legs where the staff had caught him weren't really bad, but they were still proof that she was still better than him in a fight. It was discouraging.

"Ah, I have you now." Avon felt a quite familier feel under his neck as he stopped for a moment, trying to take a breath before getting back to Mel who he had thrown into a nearby shrub. He had plain forgotten about the damn elf and he held a nice sharp knife to his throat, when would they ever learn? Pinch, whap and bang, the elf was on his back in seconds flat and he looked utterly surprised, revenge was sweet.

Argh, what was going on with his head? There was a buzzing in his ear and he looked up briefly, trying to pinpoint the location where it may be coming from. He saw the crowd that had gathered to watch them spar, but it was two large, absolutely astonished blue eyes that stared back into his own that gave him the answer.

Ash nazg, Ash nazg, Ash nazg… the voices were back, Frodo was wearing the ring around his neck and he was standing only a few feet away with it teasing him, making him feel like he was losing it. He let go of the elf and stood up, coming face to face with Mel who was swinging something he couldn't see and he held his head in his hand, seeing the realization come into her eyes that something wasn't quite right before he felt something knock into his temple. It wasn't instantaneous, he didn't black out like some would and he didn't feel anything either, he just became totally ridged and paralysed. 

Legolas wriggled up from his lay down position and stood next to Mel who still held the pole she had just hit him with, both facing him with totally dumb looks of shock on their faces. Why was he still standing? He heard the multitude gasps of shock and just before the ringing started he heard Mel asking if he was ok, did he feel ok? Definitely not.

His eyes were wide open and he stared around a bit, noticing that he was swaying a little as the world started to tip and turn. Images became blurry and he lost his paralysis, toppling over to the side and hitting the ground with a none too gentle thud before flashes came and the world went totally black. Why did this always happen to him?

"Avon, Avon wake up! Can you hear me, Avon."

"Oww." Avon groaned and opened his eyes. The big glowering bushy ones stared down at his and he yelped, trying to wiggle away before nausea came and he nearly threw up all over the wizard.

"Keep still, you've had a nasty knock by someone who I am surprised still calls you his friend."

Avon lay back and stared into the blue sky, the grass pricked the back of his neck slightly and he was confused. What the heck had happened?

"I'm so sorry Von! It was an easy move and I thought you were ready for it. Are you ok now?" Mel leaned over him, her face a mixed fruit plate of expressions ranging from concern, to anxiety, to anger then something else, he couldn't quite place it but he let it go as he spoke.

"You hit me over the friggen head with a pole, Mel. I am NOT alright!" He winced as he yelled, bringing his hand to his head as waves of pain washed over him, disorientating him even further. Gandalf come back into his vision and he blinked, the eyes looked even scarier close up.

"You have a slight concussion, but I am quite amazed you were only out for a few moments at the most. I could almost say you recover as fast as the elves." There was a touch of humour behind those words, and now Avon could see what appealed the hobbits so much about him, his rare smile was contagious.

"I…umm…I…" He tried to find something to say but was silenced by another voice, an annoying voice that had jarred his nerves since the day after the council, even though he had wanted friendship.

"If he had the healing capabilities, he would already be up now and throttling his dear friend. I know I would." Avon turned his head to the tall blond elf who leaned against a tree, his face aggravatingly passive as he watched him, sharpening one of his knives absentmindedly on a stone.

He didn't really know why the elf irritated him so much. He had defiantly wanted his and Mel's friendship, especially since the feast, but something had happened, something that was unexpected. He didn't want to think about it now, but he decided to take a good long look at Legolas. It wasn't the first time he noticed something amazingly familier about him, he had no similarities to Bloom boy except maybe the thinness and piercing eyes. He had also been a little amazed at how similar he was portrayed, with the long hair and the braids and the clothes he wore. But it was his blue eyes that caught his attention, they were so familier, so annoyingly familier and he still didn't know how he could really despise someone he hardly knew, even if they had been here for over two weeks. 

Through his dizziness though, Avon felt something clench in his chest as Mel, who had been kept away by Elrond, sidled up to the blond elf and started having a seemingly innocent conversation with him. He felt a warm cloth being pressed against his temple and he flinched, trying to keep his eyes trained on the two obvious friends as they had an animated chat about something or another. Mel's hand waved in the air and the sunlight caught the blue sapphire on her finger, making the facets twinkle and reflect back in amazing glory before the arm was dropped again and the convo continued. He hissed as a sudden realization came to him, the ring had come from her fiancé, the fiancé looked just like…oh no, it couldn't be.

Legolas' laugh rang out and he watched with a strange feeling of detachment upon the two, Mel looking a little annoyed before she relinquished and laughed along with him. He looked like…he couldn't bring himself to say the name, it was too painful as they had both been good friends before he travelled to Holland, meeting Mel and falling in love. He had basically lost them both, one to death, the other to lost memories. She had been back with him for a short while but now he was losing her again, back to the memories that were obviously being fuelled unconsciously by the elf. He was starting to understand the loathing he felt, and it didn't do a bit to make anything better.

"Avon! Keep still!" A deep voice filled with annoyance snapped him back to reality and Avon turned his head again to see Elrond kneeling over him, trying to bind a poultice to his temple, which by some amazing feat was actually relieving the pain. He shook his head slightly as the elf removed his hands, and was extremely grateful for the lack of nausea that had accompanied the same movement earlier.

"Thanks." He said, pushing himself up on his elbows.

Elrond smiled. "No probs mate." He gave Avon a pat on the back before getting up and joining a small group of elves that had stayed behind, all the others had wondered off as soon as he woke up.

No probs mate? He needed to have a good long talk with Boromir soon; this slang was just going to make everyone look stupid. But it was his fault to begin with, he was the one who had taught the man the words originally, and now he couldn't get enough of them, teaching them to everyone he met. 

"Ah, you are feeling better. I hope they were not as incensed at you as they were at us." Legolas knelt next to him and helped him into a sitting position, making sure not to grab his arm too hard as it had swollen a bit from the bruises.

"Yeah, think they thought this was punishment enough." He pointed to the bandage and Mel laughed, dropping down next to him on the other side.

"You think? I swear Gandalf was gonna turn me into a toad or something."

"They were simply concerned, we are but children in their eyes and they possibly might have thought we were being rash." Legolas made himself more comfortable and Avon noticed a little glint of annoyance in his eyes before they turned passive again. The elf was only a little older than Arwen and she had been the last elf born, of course they were like children to others, they were the youngest. But Avon didn't think it was really fair, the guy was nearly three millennia, and some pyramids weren't that old.

"Rash? We were just sparring."

"And nearly got killed several times in the process Mel."

"But I didn't think he was THAT good with knives. He didn't have any before." She whined a little and pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. Legolas smiled and unsheathed one from where he had placed it on his back, and admired the hilt and sharpness of the blade.

"I think they are wonderful craftsmanship…where did you get them again, Avon?

"From this farmer guy, I don't think even HE knew where they were from. I had no clue they were elvish." His head was clearing rapidly and he looked over to Mel, she was zoning and that was actually a bad thing now. Before in the real world, she'd go off into a daydream and think about fantasy and myth. Now that she was right in it, the daydreams were usually brought on by memory triggers, something that sucked her back into her past and made her relive it, it was defiantly not good. Legolas was still flicking the sharp edges of the knife with his fingernail, totally absorbed in his own little world as he admired it's shine, the reflection of the sun lighting off the steel and highlighting certain features of his face. How could he look like him, like the one person he'd been trying to help Mel remove herself from for years ever since he died? Why couldn't he just relax in the damn elf's company and enjoy the little peace they had until they left, the ring would always be around him then and he knew he would never get rid of those voices. They had been changing a little over the weeks, adding a word here and a meaning there, but always the same repetition that nearly drove him insane. How would he be able to cope?

"Aaaavvooon." He blinked and mischievous yet wise blue eyes gazed at him, making him wonder how the elf could sense things. "You were zoning." A wink and Legolas stood up, brushing off his tunic and walking away, saying something about noon and food.

"Mel." He growled warningly and she startled out of her musings, her eyes widening at the threatening stare he was giving her. "You told him about zoning?"

She smiled, looking slightly relieved but still a little nervous. She had the right to be. "Of course, how else was I going to explain us?"

"But I have been trying hard not to let that word even exist here, and now the elf knows, of all people…the elf." He groaned and stood up slowly, rubbing his head to get rid of the last scraps of dizziness before helping Mel up as well. 

He continued. "Oh well, we might as well get some food before we massacre this fragile culture any further." He smiled slightly as Mel's face relaxed and they made their way back to the hall.

"Yah, and before they massacre us."

They both laughed a little and Avon winced, holding his forehead in his hand.

"Von?" she looked a little concerned.

"Never mind, just remind me not to drink any of that wine at lunch. I've still got last night's hangover coming on top of this." He groaned a little and Mel laughed.

"You never listen; I told you it was strong. Didn't Pippin tell you more about me?"

"Yeah, we laughed so long I thought the little guy would burst. Then Legolas asked…"

"You told LEGOLAS!?" she was shocked and he hopped away from the punch aimed for his arm.

"Yeah, he thought it was pretty funny and he so laughed when we told him about you going after Aragorn, then a mouse and couldn't decide which…" He couldn't continue, he had to run as fast as his head would let him as Mel swore and tried to beat him up. 

He loved torturing her like this, it was his job.

TBC

* * * *

A/N: Should I change my summery so more people can read this story? I love the reviews I've got, but I would LOVE some more. Even flames are welcome as they help creativity, as long as they don't completely insult me in a way that can permanently damage my already frail sanity. J

Next Chap, things get serious. REALLY serious.


	7. Travelling With Voices

YIPPEE!! My writers block dissipated and I got this next chap out to you all. I'm getting into darker things now and the comedy is becoming less, just like in the book and the way Tolkien brought forth all serious things. All I can say about this though, is that I'm scared stiff I'm dragging it out too much, and if anyone else is even reviewing it apart from my loyal regulars who I will give a dedication to later on when I have the time. I also gotta say that Mel has SERIOUS emotional problems, she is based on a real person as is Avon and the truth of the matter is that I have incorporated their personalities into the story. Look out, my OC's are'nt even real OC's, Houston we have a problem. My friend Avon is EXACTLY like this, totally clutzy and the best actor I know, Mel's fiancé is also a real person, but in real life he's MY guy and we aren't engaged as of yet, just friends but I can so see him as an elf sometimes. Just to reassure some that I am NOT turning this into a Mary Sue, the martial arts are real aswell, Mel can knock Avonn on his back any day and the elf and Avon do NOT have those kind of feeling for eachother, neither does Mel…you'll see.

**Disclaimer: See first chap as I still do NOT own anyone…I mean it, not even my OC's, I'm just borrowing them along with the rest of the characters.**

**Summery: Enter severe culture shocks on Avon's behalf as he realizes it doesn't take two hours to get 200 km like in a car at home. Set on the trek between Rivendell and Cahadras.**

* * * *

CHAP 7

"Avon, you needn't be so anxious. All will be fine, you shall see and the carpet is being worn, please calm down Avon." Boromir chastised him and Avon finally stopped pacing, wringing his hands instead and stared out of the window at the gathering dusk. It was today, he couldn't believe time could go so fast, but here he was, dressed for travel again and terrified out of his mind. What had he been thinking at the council? To go into danger himself was one thing, but to have Mel there too? He needed to find out how to get her out of this and he was fast running out of time. They were leaving in less then two hours and he didn't have a clue as to what to do, he needed an idea, any idea.

"I'm worried about the little ones, they do not seem to be cut out for a journey such as this." Avon drew out his words slowly and precise, while Boromir and others picked up his slang, he had picked up on the linguistics of the general culture the last few weeks. Mel had done the same and now they almost fit in, almost.

"You do not have to worry so, they are hardy folk and I envy Frodo…"

"Why?" Avon looked at him sharply, wondering if this was the starting point of his downward spiral. Boromir looked a little surprised at him for cutting him off, but shrugged it off and continued.

"I envy him for his friends, they will all stick by him through thick and thin and even though I still think the mission is fraught with peril; I know this, that there is greater chance for success with that lot coming along then with a hundred soldiers of Gondor." Boromir sighed, laid back on the bed he had been sitting on and stared at the ceiling, possibly pondering over what was in front of them. Avon went over to his own, maybe slightly less luxurious bed and did the same, except he was meant to know what would happen and this pondering helped him remember. It was like not hearing a certain favourite song for an incredibly long amount of time, and then be expected to sing on the spot, tone and word perfect. It was the same with the book, he hadn't really read it or watched the movie for years and due to the fact he never paid much attention in the first place, it was all slipping away, like a forgotten dream. He'd been here for nearly half a year now, living it all away from the general comforts of modern civilization, things just became less important until he realized what he was losing and tried to retrieve the forgotten information, it was getting harder every day.

He didn't realize how long he was lying there until a knock sounded at the door and a voice rang out.

"We are gathering in the Hall of Fire, if you wish to say your farewells now is the time." Mel, she waited for them to come out then walked next to Avon like a silent shadow, he acted the same and motioned for Boromir to go on, he would catch up later.

"Mel," he started, once Boromir was out of earshot. "What's the matter?" He put an arm around her shoulder and she sniffed, surely she wasn't crying. But when she took out a handkerchief and wiped her nose before coughing a bit he relaxed, she had a cold.

"I'm just thinking." She looked down and wiped her nose again before looking back up at him.

"About what?" he rubbed her back and she sighed, enjoying the slight message.

"About what we about to do, possibly changing the course of history for all we know. Have you ever thought of the repercussions, Avon? How our very presence has changed things already?" She pulled on his elbow and they started to walk again, drifting through the now well-known hallways like the unnoticed and unimportant beings they had agreed to represent themselves as.

Mel had told him about the consequences of bringing too much attention to yourself in such a delicate endeavour as this one. To keep the spotlight on Frodo and Aragorn had become their main priority and it was the perfect excuse to get Mel away from Legolas, the elf was making her depressed again, he knew the signs and took action. They kept loyal to each their own "masters"; even though they had both been told they were equal they insisted it, for they were from 'families of little wealth and value', much like Samwise who did the same thing. The difference between Sam and them was that they were consciously determined NOT to make themselves obvious and try to bear their burdens with as little complaint as possible. It was going to be hard, and Avon could see the trails ahead that would make them trip up and possibly blow their cover.

It was about now that Avon realized something, he would never get through this if Mel didn't come, and she WOULD come somehow even if he locked her up somewhere. Her brick wall that she had snapped up many years before kept her emotions from bubbling over, but at an awful price. She could make him feel so comfortable and safe while at the same time be battling to keep her bottled grief at bay, she hadn't really shown an extreme emotion for nearly 7 years and he didn't know how long her heart could hold out. From his own experience, when his father died, he had held it all in, being strong for his mother and it hurt more than anything he had ever felt. His heart felt sore and bruised for weeks until finally he could hold it no longer and cried for three days straight, he still grieved but it was such a relief to let it go that he couldn't understand why Mel couldn't do the same. She seemed terrified of showing something apart from complete contentment and happiness, maybe a little slip of anger here and there and a few other things, but he knew she never really felt it. Mel had told him once, when writing him a letter that she naturally denied she ever wrote, that the one thing she missed more in the world, was the ability to cry, and mean it. 

She wasn't the bravest person he knew, in fact in one of those fights with Orcs they would more than likely have pretty soon, she'd probably curl up in a corner somewhere and hide and he'd more than likely join her. But it was the comfort; he simply would not be able to cope without her. How selfish could he get and he mentally kicked himself, still wondering how they got wrapped up in all this?

He looked down at the gear they had on them and smiled a little, they were done exactly alike. Wearing clothes made by the elves here, but not necessarily elvish looking, they would blend in nicely with their surroundings and would remain inconspicuous, just how they wanted it. They wore dark mauve leggings similar to Legolas, with maybe a bit more give, with brown leather pads sewn onto the knees and light warm boots that came up just below them. The same coloured tunics had light chain mail under them to give a little protection, but seeing they weren't going to battle the elves had been slightly confused for the need, but they conceded and the stuff was great, not heavy and dragging but light and free so they could move with ease and with little noise. The tunics themselves looked suspiciously oriental with the overlapping fabrics and the black belts that buckled around their middles leaving the bottom half to come loosely three quarters down the thighs, and making the top puff out a bit and making it easier for Mel to hide things, if the point is taken.

The dark navy short coats no longer than the tunics and the dark green cloaks from their own world, that had been mended and returned to them, completed the look and he wondered if he would ever get used to it all. He felt the same as he did that morning so long ago, in that bathroom with wonderful running water and non rippled mirrors…what the heck was he getting himself into?

Point number 2 on 'Do Not Do List': Do not even consider using engineering skills to invent modern appliances, it will simply backfire.

He grinned at the thought as they entered the hall. Point number 1 had been: Do not strangle sons of Stewards.   

The list had been growing ever since and it was now up in the 400's somewhere.

Avon and Mel stood together in a dark corner, well away from the light of the fire and kept their hoods pulled over their faces. There were a few reasons for this; one – the fire was too hot for them, two – they wanted to keep unnoticed (even the friends Mel had made before barely conversed with them now), three – they wanted to keep themselves slightly strange so even the hobbits wouldn't question them…and most important, four – Avon personally needed some space before going near Frodo as the ring would soon drive him mad.

Durbatul, rule them all. Ash nazg…Ash nazg…It always spoke, but in a way that it seemed like it was an annoying song you just can't couldn't get rid of, it wasn't the words themselves that was making him nuts, it was the continuation, that was another reason why he needed Mel, her voice was very distracting.

"I have also thought about it," he answered her earlier question. "Do you remember what happens?" He took out a pipe and started stuffing some tobacco leaves into it, waiting patiently for her to reply.

"Not precisely, I used to know so much and now it is slipping away even faster than before. I don't even know what happens to them at the end." He noticed her chewing her lip, her mouth was the only thing visible in the dim light and the hood hid the rest. He took out his flint and lit the pipe, sucking in deep and sighing as the smoke filled his lungs and made him cough a little. It went straight to his ragged nerves and soothed them, the relief was obvious as he relaxed and leaned against the wall. He never smoked back at home, in fact Mel and him had a type of taboo against it and why shouldn't they? It was the bane of their existence; her grandfather and many other relatives had died from lung cancer, as did his father. They used to shun it and Mel's religion even forbade it due to their value of health and purity.

Mel took out her own pipe and borrowed his flint, before long she was puffing contently along side him and was silent, both staring out at the solemn gathering. Avon noticed Aragorn and Arwen standing off to one side, he couldn't make out their faces in the dim light but he could guess what was happening; the elf maiden was upset and the man was comforting her.

"She doesn't know when or if he'll come back." Mel clicked her tongue against her teeth, staring at the couple as well and seeming to be lost in her own thoughts. "I don't blame her, I don't know myself…" drifting off she sucked at the pipe again, the light illuminating her features slightly before all was plunged into darkness once more. He knew what she meant, for all he knew this was a suicide mission but in overall, there was a good ending; the Ring would be destroyed, but maybe they wouldn't live to see it. Now that they were faced with almost imminent death, smoking was their only relief from the stress they were under. Avon felt like he was letting himself succumb to temptation to take an easy way out instead of just coping, but he almost didn't care anymore, they were never going to get home and he didn't care.

"They're moving, we gotta go." Mel walked quietly away from the wall and Avon followed, coming close to the fire so they could knock the ash from their pipes before exiting with the rest. It was time, this was it and the hopelessness was resurfacing as they joined the others in waiting outside, Gandalf was taking his time and the dusk was chilling him to the bone.

"Rope. No rope! And only last night you said to yourself…" Avon looked over to Sam who muttering away, running his hand along Bill the pony's neck as he slouched under the huge pack on his back, the little guy had taken tons. Avon sighed and was about to go over and talk to him when Gandalf and Elrond finally came out. He sighed again and tried to look brave, Boromir put a soothing hand on his shoulder and Avon smiled gratefully, he was a real good friend.

Elrond said something, then Gimli, and then Elrond again before Bilbo said his part. But he was so absorbed in keeping his thoughts clear and watching Mel as she approached him he barely heard it.

"Forgot to give you this." She handed him a small parcel wrapped in parchment paper and sealed with wax. "Merry Christmas, Avon." Mel smiled a little as he unwrapped the gift.

He took out the chain with the heavy medallion hanging off the end, the white crystal inset in silver glowing a little in the firelight from the windows. He smiled and reached into his pocket, drawing out an almost identical medallion and Mel gasped a little as she took it before he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "I think they knew." He inclined his head towards Elrond and a barely perceptible smile crossed the elf's lips. 

He made a pact then and there to never again share traditions with elves; they would take it to extremes and make identical gifts for everything. He almost wished he hadn't asked them to "surprise me" when seeing if they could make something for Mel, they were just too literal.

Mel sneezed and wiped her nose again before going back to walk next to Aragorn as they left, crossing the bridge silently and making their way up the steep path to the hill which looked over Rivendell, before going round a ridge and blocking it from sight. He knew he would never see it again.

* * * *

The hobbits were being cheerful again, he couldn't see how or why. The cold was wind whipping at them and finding ways into their clothes that froze him nearly to the bone in certain places, it howled and it moaned around them and the little protection they got at night was next to nothing and he almost never slept. So when one morning he woke bleary eyed and sore from the miles of hiking they had done, he was irritable at the four hobbits chattering away as they sat down for another cold breakfast. He was bored and Mel was being her little servant self as she fetched this and that for Aragorn, the poor guy was starting to get a little embarrassed at the attention, but no one really commented, she was doing the same for all of them.

"Your friend is quite the little helper isn't he?" Boromir flopped down next to him and poked at his food, he didn't seem really hungry but hey, neither did Avon.

"Yeah, Mel just knows how to keep himself from getting as bored as me."

"Do you know any other elvish words? Apart from the abbreviation of 'friend'?" Boromir raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Hmm, I know 'vedui' means hello or close to it, and 'namaarië' means goodbye…'amin' is I or me, 'lle' is you and 'mellon' is friend. That's about it I'm afraid. But I can't really string them into a sentence; it's all backwards, a bit like Dutch."

"Dutch?"

"Oh. It's just this language that M…Samson can speak. Don't ask me, I've forgotten most of it already and I hardly knew it to begin with."

"I suppose it would be hard, so far I know of only one other word of elvish."

"Really? What's that?"

"Ringwe."

"What does THAT mean?"

"Cold. Though he does not show it, our companion elf is freezing and he mutters that word often enough, I simply asked Aragorn."

Avon snickered a little, his irritation lifting in this typical conversation he and Boromir would always have. Since leaving the safety and comforts of Rivendell, he had gone through a wide range of emotions. From terrified at every shadow thinking it was an Orc, to contemplative and moody, to just plain annoyed and bored out of his mind. He had run out of things to think about ages before and now he was literally trekking like a zombie, totally annoyed and simply ticked off at anything that seemed to be having more fun than him.

But every now and then, when the days just seemed like they would never end, someone would come to the aid of his mental sanity and have good old chat that would lift his spirits considerably. The someone's mainly consisted of Boromir and Mel. Sometimes a hobbit called Merry or Pippin would venture close and, finding him harmless, would set him straight with as much family genealogy as his brain could handle. Sam and Frodo though, thank god, kept apart and closer to Gandalf and Aragorn; even at a distance the ring wouldn't leave him alone and he liked to keep that distance as long as possible, unless it became absolutely impossible and he'd just have to grit his teeth and cope. 

One day, he lost count how long they had been travelling but thankfully Mel had been keeping a record, the sun shone. It actually broke through the clouds that had been careening in the wind high above and rays of sunlight bathed the company in rays of golden warmth that hadn't been felt for nearly a fortnight. They had been marching hard all night and the wizard finally called a halt, saying that they wouldn't have to move again until tomorrow night. Avon unhitched his heavy pack from his shoulders and lowered it gently, sighing in relief as he literally collapsed on the ground and pretended to be asleep.

"Faker." The voice held laughter.

"Hi Mel." He opened one eye and stared up at the tall figure standing over him, she was smiling and he couldn't help but smile back.

"You tired?" She crossed her legs and gently lowered herself to the ground, picking out some comfy spot on the springy turf and unclasping her cloak before settling down again.

"Heck yeah, at least on the horse I got to sit down, now my feet just feel like they want to drop off. How far have we come?" 

"Gandalf knows, he's talking to the hobbits now. Go ask him." She mumbled, searching around in her pack for something and seeming to be preoccupied. Avon groaned a little before rolling up, leaning over his knees for a minute and then stood up on his feet which felt like they had knives running through them. He then walked, if a little painfully, over to where the wizard stood on a ridge, shielding his face with his hand from the glare of the rising sun.

"It is for the Dimrill Dale that we are making." Gandalf spoke to no one in particular, but the four hobbits seemed to be listening intently anyway. Gimli stood off to one side, staring of into the distance at the luring mountains along with the wizard and Legolas seemed to be half listening, and half ready to run off to catch those mountains with his bare hands.

"But how far have we already come?" Avon came up behind them and Gandalf turned to face him, his face as blank as ever.

"If you were here before you would have heard what I had to say, Avon." A ghost of a smile crossed his lips as Avon retorted.

"Well I wasn't, and I haven't so I still don't know and my feet are killing me, so we had better have come pretty far or else." He tried to glare at Gandalf, but those eyes got to him again and he had to resort to an offhanded glance before turning his attentions to the distance as well.

"Five-and-forty leagues, as the crow flies. But we have come much further on foot." He smiled at Avon's face as he scrunched it up, trying to do some mental calculations.

Forty-five leagues, three miles to a league…that makes it 135 miles, 1.6km to the mile…times 135 is…

"217 Kilometres!? It's taken us two weeks to get two hundred km under our belts? But…but that's impossible! I thought we came further than that!" He stared at them in disbelief and stuttered as he tried to say more. "I mean, I can understand me and Boromir trudging through wilderness, that took nearly three months coz we had no clue where to go. But…but, two weeks to get…here?" He growled a little as a soft laugh came from behind him and he turned. Mel was grinning as she walked up to him, giving him a firm pat on the back before speaking.

"Get used to it dear friend, welcome to roughing it, medieval style."

His face fell as he calculated again, from his faint memory of the maps he glanced at in Rivendell, they still had hundreds of km, or miles, as he should put it, to go before they reached Mordor. And what happened before then, he wondered. Knowledge of the story was almost nonexistent now, only vague images of snow, of fire, blackness and light…a wonderful lady and horrific Orcs, travel and war somewhere before it drifted off into nothing. He couldn't even remember who survived and whether it was a happy ending at all.

"Mel, can you…?" He took her by the arm and walked a little way away; making sure their voices would not be heard by those over-curious hobbits.

"No, I can't. I…can't remember what happens except about Gandalf and the Arwenmea."

"Huh? When does Arwen come into this?"

"Avon, Arwen in common speech is 'Lady'. 'Lady of the Light', Galadriel."

"Who?"

"Cate Blanchet you ninny."

"Oh…right, but does Gandalf live? You know, after he…um…oh crap I know something happens to him but…"

"You've forgotten?"

"Yeah."

"It's ok, I can't remember either. It's like it's erasing itself backwards from the end, the more we live it, the more we lose touch of what is to come. Like watching Shakespeare on stage over and over until you know exactly what happens next, then being pulled out of the audience, given no character and be expected to know what to do. Your mind just goes blank. I don't even know when the Ring is destroyed, and probably soon, we won't even know what is over the next ridge. I'm scared of Moria, I know we will go there and I know we have to go up the mountain first or I wouldn't of packed these." She pulled out a multitude of different sized mittens made of bright colourful leather and soft wool, he had some more in his own pack as they had been made on request by the elves for the entire Fellowship, even Legolas had a pair. 

She continued. "But I don't know why I'm scared of a place I've never been to, I thought that's where Gimli's relatives are waiting for us, where we'd get a break before…oh no."

"What Mel? What is wrong?" Avon took her shoulders and her face held total bafflement as she faced him, her eyes wet with unshed tears that he knew would never fall.

"Gandalf dies, he dies and we have no way of stopping it. I don't know what to do." She swallowed and looked up at the sky, probably trying to will those tears away before they coursed down her cheeks and revealed that hidden "weakness".

Avon sighed, he would do anything to just get her to let it out, to drop those barriers and feel the grief that was needed, it would hurt, but she would be truly happy again. If she ever was truly happy, he never knew her before…when she was child, alone and afraid.   

The birds came about mid-morning. He was curled up under a boulder, trying to hold his ears to get rid of the nightmarish flapping and squawking from the black creatures that wheeled above them. He had no idea if the others were awake, they had been told to rest after that first hot meal in ages and most had dropped off in seconds, he hadn't been one of them. His mind was just too busy, he was exhausted but his body simply would not respond to the command 'sleep'.

As they finally passed he breathed again, he had no idea he had been holding it until now.

"Gandalf, wake up! It is urgent."

Aragorn's voice sounded almost next to his ear and he turned around, realizing he must have unconsciously squirmed close to the wizard while the birds flew overhead, Aragorn must have been on watch with Sam.

"Regiments of black crows are flying over all the land between the Mountains and the Greyflood, and they have passed over Hollin. It is all being watched and I'm afraid the Redhorn Gate over Cahadras is as well."

"How we can hope to get over that without being seen? I cannot imagine." Gandalf sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"They are crebain out of Fangorn and Dunland, we must move as soon as it is dark. Luckily the fire burned down and made little smoke, we must never light it again." Aragorn sounded uncannily panicky and Gandalf looked like he was thinking way too hard. Neither noticed Avon lying on his side, peering up at them from half closed lids and neither realized what he overheard next.

"Gandalf, I also have noticed another thing. Before we wake the others I must tell you this."

"What of Sam?"

"I set him busy to clean up the far side of the camp, he is destroying any evidence of our ever stopping here."

"Very well, share your observations with me if you will."

"It is three of our company I am worried about, I am concerned for their well-being and sanity."

"It is the Ring, is it not Aragorn?"

"I fear so. I noticed it first at the council and put it aside. I thought to be a mere flight of fancy, but over the last few days a few things have come to light and are continuing to become more obvious as time moves on."

"Do continue, I too have noticed some…irregularities, if your suspicions are the same as mine than we may have some serious problems."

"Gandalf, the Ring has already started its corruption and, amazingly enough, not directly on the Ringbearer as of yet. The three that I speak of are starting to fall, I fear they will not last long."

Silence, Avon tried to act asleep but his mind was whirling with questions and suspicions. They must have been talking about Boromir, but who in the world were the other two?

"We must confront one of them soon, his resolve is weakening faster than the others, I can see it." He nearly jumped when Aragorn said that, they had been quiet for a while

"I know who it is, and I know he has heard every word we have spoken…" Gandalf's words made Avon freeze, they thought it was him; they thought he was being corrupted by a piece of metal. But before he even got his senses back to make a retort, Gandalf spoke again.

"Come out, I know you are there. Come show yourself so we may discuss what to do, Legolas."

The elf silently came out from his hiding place behind some thick bushes and stood tall above the man and wizard, his blank and focussed expression not saying a thing about what he was thinking.

It was the elf, it was the freaken elf and here he was, acting like nothing was the matter and everything was going smoothly.

"Legolas, we must talk."

"Of what Estel? The crebain? I saw them too; it is a sign of watchfulness that we must take heed."

"Do not avert the subject, you know of what we speak."

"Yes, the crebain. It is…"

"Legolas! My patience is wearing thin, you will answer Aragorn properly, and it is your duty as part of the Fellowship and of basic trust."

"Trust, Gandalf, must be taken both ways. If you could trust my word that I am well and have no bad intentions to the Ringbearer or have temptations of the Ring itself, than I can trust that you will let me stay and help protect Frodo as I decreed at the council. I am speaking the truth, there is no more to say."

The elf bowed for some reason and turned, and was walking off when Aragorn called to him.

"Legolas, come…" He zipped his lips. Merry had come up and was now rubbing his eyes sleepily, trying to stop himself from yawning and trying to walk in a straight line which gave him a very drunk look.

"Sam said something about big black birds, what was he talking about, Strider sir?"

"Yes, that, of course, would be my question too if Merry here hadn't beat me to it."

"Well you were simply too slow in waking up, Frodo."

"Why has our sleep been disturbed? I thought we were to sleep for many hours yet and now there is all this talk of black birds. What is happening Gandalf?"

"Boromir, it's obvious ain't it. The birds are evil, the pass is being watched and now we gotta work something out as a compromise, like travelling non-stop with hardly any rest and freeze on the mountain when it blocks us in." All eyes turned to Mel; Avon still tried to act like a bomb wouldn't wake him up as he listened to the whole company gather around.

"Or maybe I should just keep my big mouth shut."

"Yes, then we may be able to have some sleep. Gandalf, if the pass is being watched we could take my way…I'm sure my cousin Balin will give us a royal welcome."

"Royal welcome? Does that mean food because I've become mighty hungry and we didn't have anything apart from those sausages this morning. A growing hobbit like me needs his nour…nors…norish, tummy filled or he will possibly fade from hunger. It's not right you know…why are you all looking at me like that? Have I got something on my face? Well, if I have it's more than likely leftover food…Merry, I'm hungry."

Pippin walked off again to probably find more food in his pack, Sam, who was coming back from wherever he had been, ran after him, begging him not to ransack his pack.

Everyone stared after him, even Legolas who before looked like a cool cat, had a strange twisted smile on his face; the elf was trying very unsuccessfully not to laugh at the strange antics.

Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, Avon moved, turning his snicker into a yawn as he stretched and scratched his head, staring up at everyone with a tired expression.

"Mmm, I'm hungry. Did someone mention sausages?"

He had to muster every bit of acting ability under his belt when everybody stared at him, looking at him like he was mad.

He stared back innocently and blinked. "What? What did I miss? Is it something important?"

Mel groaned and Merry burst into hysterics of laughter.

"He sounds just like Pippin." He snorted, laughing even harder at the confusion Avon printed over his face.

"What?" he asked again.

"Oh help us!" Aragorn threw up his hands in defeat, giving Avon a sympathetic pat on the back before staring at the others. "Come, Gandalf and I have much to speak to you all about. But for now let us sleep for a bit longer, I am weary and no doubt, so are the rest of you."

They all nodded in agreement and made their way to their own respective bedrolls. Avon just turned over and shut his eyes, pretending to go to sleep again as the conversation behind him started up again.

"A plague on the stiff necks of all elves, he does not know what is right for him."

"Maybe Aragorn, but we cannot force him, he must talk to us when he is ready. Not before."

"Very well…but I still must tell you of the other two."

"Go on."

"One is still relatively safe, he simply has a desire to do good overall and the Ring is possibly working on that." Ah, Boromir, that is how it all got started. 

"But the last one," Aragorn continued. "I saw it at the council, no one person could miss it. He hears it always and it never gives him peace. I see him rubbing at his head like he has pain there, but when I ask him of it he is very vague, speaking of tension and tiredness. He is strong that one, but even the strong can fall. I would almost think he would take the ring just to throw it into a gully, to be rid of it from his mind. But we must confront him soon for I can see that very thought building in him. He must realize that if such a thing is done, not only will he doom Middle Earth forever, but also he will doom himself to eternal torture. As long as the Ring exists, it will plague him, and this plague will end in disaster."

"But if we do this, it might make it worse. Are you sure of what you are saying, Aragorn? Are you sure that by talking of it openly it may help? For all we know this is only a fleeting thought in our friend's mind and our bringing it forth may solidify it, speeding up the process so to speak."

"Gandalf, if we do not tackle it soon, later may be too late."

"I understand. You truly do know what will happen?"

"Yes, we have no choice, it is a no win situation. If we leave it, he will take action into his own hands and in his insanity, possibly destroy us all. If we confront it, he will truly know and the knowledge will enhance the effects, past the point of madness and into death. He has no hope. Either way, our good companion and friend will suffer; I am loath to have allowed him to come."

"Aragorn, what shall we tell his friends?"

"Tell them naught, Avon will know what to do in his own time. He has time, maybe a few more weeks at the most before the headaches become worse and he will 'go off the rails', as he once told me."

"It is a woeful day when we shall tell him. But let us not do it too soon, there are tough times ahead and we need all the strength we can muster."

"Ok Gandalf, we will wait. But it cannot be long, the young one must know."

Silence fell then and soon the sounds of gentle snoring was heard over the camp, minus two. 

Legolas pricked his ears as Avon walked up, sitting next to him quietly as the elf kept his senses tuned for anything out of the ordinary. Then Legolas turned to Avon and spoke.

"My friend, I know we have not been on good terms as of late. For what reasons I can only guess, but I know what troubles you, and I will do all in my power to help you through this." He laid a helping hand on Avon's shoulder and he leaned into it, bowing his head as if there was too much on his shoulders to carry. 

Then when the elf drew him in for a comforting embrace he broke down, sobbing quietly into the green tunic and gripping it with his fingers. He was lost, he had no idea what to do and it was the most painful thing he could ever cope with, or not cope with. 

Legolas whispered things in elvish and it calmed him down a little, it also hid the words they were both hearing, that they both had to live with until what a ranger and a wizard said came true. When they would have to face the reality, and possibly never survive.

Ash nazg, all are one, ûkash, sempagh, truth lies, Ash nazg, one ring comes, hamangrimpûk, life ends for all, burzum, darkness…one ring…it all ends soon…

TBC

A/N: You know, being in Holland has really inspired a lot of scenery perceptions and the pain factor. In Australia I never went anywhere, never really did anything and it was too hot all the time to experience winter. Now I'm experiencing cold from an Auzzie's POV and it makes it more easier to see what Avon would be feeling, if this is Autumn now, then I'm in deep trouble come winter (last week my hands went totally numb on a 15km bike ride that totally killed my legs too).

Hmm, PLEASE review o loyal readers. They really help my self esteem, and get me writing more, even though my dad HATES it.

Muse #4: Don't blame me, I just give ideas

Vana: Whatever.

Ta ta


	8. A Discovery

**A/N:** Hi there O loyal readers. My writers block has lifted a little but my muses are still unconscious from my latest sugar craze...so I am VERY happy that I keep one chapter ahead of everything otherwise I wouldn't be able to give you this one. Hee hee. I have gone on a diet and hopefully this will curb my desire for chocolate (though I am such a major chocoholic) mmm, Belgian chocolete. *slaps herself out of dream and tries to stop drool...eew*. Anyway, I am getting into the history of Mel here, someone has to explain a few things about her psyché and this was the best way to go about it. I'm getting all that deep stuff down now coz later there is action that doesn't need to be marred by emotional turmoil. Hmm, I'm going to have a good long talk to #4, he's taking this rejection WAY too seriously. Check my bio to know what I'm talking about, he's been in a deep depression since my first slash fic, then 'Pippin the Fruit' popped it's ugly head up and now he's gone all dark on me, he is at fault for all the deep stuff here. Hee hee

**Disclaimer:** I seriously don't own anything, even Avon's toes (you'll get it at the end)

**Summery:** Things get deep into the past, Legolas and Avon become friends (but NOT in that way, you shall see again as it becomes clearer in this chap than the one before). Cold, travel, dead rabbits...you get the idea.

* * * *

CHAP 8

The others couldn't understand what had happened, and Avon truly didn't want to tell them. To them he was already strange but this was simply topping the cake. He was ignoring them all, every single one except the elf, except Legolas. 

He knew Mel was feeling hurt, she even showed it outwardly when, passing him to catch up with Aragorn, she punched him in the shoulder, showing a taste of spite and anger at him for leaving her in the lurch. He knew she was confused to his change, why he suddenly would not even speak to her never mind look her in the eye. Boromir just became moody and distant, Avon felt like the man truly didn't care, that he was focussing on other things, like staring at Frodo all the long day as they marched upwards, ever higher and it got colder.

It had been three days since the black birds, three days since Avon found out the truth and three days since he and Legolas became close by an unspoken bond and similarity. He could almost feel Aragorn and Gandalf's eyes boring into his back whenever he went up ahead with Legolas to scout the terrain, he knew they knew he knew. 

Thinking of that, his own tongue nearly got twisted into a knot and he stopped for a moment, crouching onto the ground to check something, Boromir had taught him many tracking tricks, but Legolas had perfected them and he gripped his staff, waiting patiently. He and the elf were on patrol, simply scouting around the camp they had made for that day and maybe picking up some food.

Whap! He brought the staff down onto the back of a small rabbit and broke its neck, killing it instantly. He laid the staff down gently and proceeded to stuff the animal into his pack; ready to carry it back down to camp when Legolas strode up, a certain small smile gracing his face that he only ever reserved for when he was alone or with Avon.

"Three." He said, holding up two squirrels and a rabbit that were strung up by their necks by pieces of string hanging off his wrist.

"One. I will never match you my friend." He sighed and picked up his staff again, making sure he didn't nick himself on the metal spearhead on the top.

Back in Rivendell he and Mel had received gifts from the elves that were in the shape of newly refurbished weapons and their updated staffs. He could now use the pole as a walking aid and as a more effective weapon than before, as it was his stronger skill than the sword or bow, which was also Mel's weapon of choice. He had been given a new sword in place of the severely damaged one, and it had looked suspiciously familier until he found out it was Aragorn's old one, he now had Anduril to play with; not saying that this sword wasn't half bad of course, it was just a bother having a hand-me-down. He still had his trusty boot knife and, in trade for the two knives Legolas now used, he had been given just recently a small phial of liquid poison. It could do two things, he could smear it over his sword and knife so he wouldn't have to give a deadly blow to kill, or he could use the advice Legolas had given him as he received the phial.

"As you now know your fate, when it reaches the point of total desperation use this, it will help you."

As they walked back to camp, the fresh kills tucked safely away in a sack, he pondered over his lost hope. He knew that the voices had become even more intense since finding out what was going to happen to him, but he didn't want to be responsible for anything going out of hand that could change to whole course of this thing. He used all his willpower now to just try and block out the incessant words that grew stronger with every step closer to the Ring.

"Avon, if you wish to rest there is a stream nearby. It may be too cold to bathe in, but cold water on the neck can be a mighty reviver." Legolas put a hand on Avon's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. But he could feel the strain in that hand, they said the elf was going quicker than anyone else and he knew that this straight face and calm façade was only going to go so far.

In the book, he knew of certain things, as they had been his main focus of his attention, such as the knowledge that Boromir was going to be tempted by the ring. But he had no clue now what would happen to him and whether anyone else was similarly affected, like Legolas.

"Yeah, I suppose. They won't miss us?" he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the camp and was silent as the elf shook his head.

"We have not been gone long enough and anyhow, you look like you really need it." He gave Avon's hair a slight ruffle, making it stand up on ends and eliciting the first smile the man had shown for three days. Legolas smiled in return and started leading him off to the left, down into a deep hollow and past the remains of rock scree before finally coming to a small trickling brook. How the elf knew it was all the way down there, Avon had no idea, but when he dunked his face into the icy water, everything else left his head as the cold numbed his senses.

Under the water just about all sounds were muffled and dull, including the ones in his head and he found a bit of peace for the first time in ages, he relished it and closed his eyes in bliss, the ripples playing with the hair on his neck. All to soon though he felt a hand grip his hair and pull him up, ripping his head from the water and making him realize his lungs were actually starved of precious oxygen as he gasped for air.

"Avon! Do not ever do that again. You…er…unnerved me for I thought you were trying to drown yourself." The elf was stumbling over his words as he knelt by Avon and held his shoulders, trying to catch his eye as he shivered from cold and anxiety. The voices were back and louder than ever, the time under water only gave the ring more intensity as he discovered peace from incessantness.

"Legolas," his rare use of his full name surprised the elf and he rocked back on his heels, looking at Avon with a slight quizzical expression.

"I…can't…"

"You can't what, Avon?"

"I can't take it any more! It's really starting to hurt and it's not friggen stopping! It just keeps going and going and…I can't stop it and I just want to go home, I hate it here, I hate everything about this and I don't even know why I bothered to come! Everyone thinks I'm nuts but I'm not, and now Mel hates me coz she thinks I hate her but I don't and…I…Oh shit!" Avon pounded the ground as the elf got up and backed away, openly staring at him in shock. What the friggen heck had he been thinking? The one thing that was SO EASY to keep under wraps and he had to go and stuff the whole lot up, he had to wreck it all and probably get himself killed, by Mel.

"No, Legolas! Please don't…"

"I must tell Aragorn." The elf turned around and if Avon had been one second slower, he would have run off at his impossible speed and told everyone that Samson, the loyal servant of Aragorn, was a girl, and that the name 'Mel' was no abbreviation.    

Legolas grunted as he hit the ground, Avon's arms wrapped securely round his ankles as the elf tried to get his feet free and kick him away. He held on VERY tight, even though his shoulders were killing him from the continual jerking and the rest of his body bruised as he was shaken back and forth by the sheer strength of the elf. He was no wuss though and he held on, trying to speak while being basically pummelled.

"I…didn't mean to…OW! Stop it I'm trying to…to tell you why…"

"You both lied!" The enraged elf flipped over onto his back and dug the heels of his hands into the ground, pushing up while trying to dolphin flip himself away. The move also flipped Avon over and now his back was being made like his stomach, black and blue, while he looked at Legolas upside-down with the boots digging into his chest.

"We had to do it…we HAD to and she…said that if…oof…I told anyone I'd regret it…"

"You brought a girl into this! A FEMALE to trek into doom and death, it is no question of why you did it, it is only that you DID!" He flipped again and finally Avon was thrown clear, flying through the air and slamming into the tree next to them. He then slumped noiselessly down into a crumpled heap and lay still, and the elf got up, ready to run again. But he only took two steps before looking back, realizing that Avon was still not moving and that maybe he could be seriously hurt.

"Avon?" He took a tentative step towards the unconscious figure and, receiving no response, became worried, kneeling down next to the awkwardly placed body and checking the head for major injuries. 

"What the…" The big brown eyes stared down at him cheekily; he didn't even have a clue how the man had ended up on top of him when he had been obviously out cold mere seconds before. The elf growled at the trickery and tried to get out from under him when a sharp object tapped his neck and he froze, watching the knife as a smiling young man held it steadily to his jugular.

"Now, if you would just stay still and listen." Avon smiled wider as the elf swallowed and nodded, eyeing him cautiously of his intent with the small weapon. 

"Mel is a girl, well yeah of course you would know that seeing I've just told you, but she ain't no prissy little mama's girl if that's what you are implying. I know we've told you all that "Samson" is only 17, and that's why "he" looks so different from me. She's actually 11 months and 25 days older than me, believe me she reminds me nearly every day." Avon groaned a little and shook his head, smiling a bit. "She is about the most adequate fighter I know. Look mate, I have scars from it and so far I have never been able to lay a finger on her. You remember our sparring? You remember her strength and agility as she totally pummelled us? Is it really that different now you know her sex?" he waited for a response and groaned when the elf nodded his head.

"It is the role of the males to fight for the well-being of the women and children, of any race. She should not be risking her life on this perilous quest, it is the female role to marry and bear children, to keep house and stay safe from the dangers of this world. Not to throw themselves headlong into it, it simply is not…"

"You don't know shit about women, especially Mel." Avon growled and put the knife away, getting off the elf and letting him stand up on his own accord. "Go on, go tell them about Mel. Go tell them that even though she has risked her own neck selflessly over and over for the safety of Frodo and the Ring, she's a girl and is "inadequate". You don't know a thing about her and she only does this because she has no choice in the friggen matter." Avon glared at the elf and leaned against a tree, seeing if he would take the dare and ruin any friendship that might have been forming within the Fellowship.

Legolas looked like he was about to do just that when something crossed his face, was that…confusion?

"What do you mean, she has no choice?" He stood quietly and watched while Avon scratched his head and suddenly looked uncomfortable. He couldn't really go and blab about Mel's problems like this, it just wasn't…well, right.

"Nothing really."

"Avon, you chastise me for something I do not understand and yet continue to confuse me with vague answers to my questions. Why is it she feels like there is no other way to live?"

Or die, Avon thought to himself, regarding the elf solemnly before walking off. Leave the sexist pig to himself, let him think what he wants but Avon wouldn't tell him why, he never would.

"You had better tell me."

"Why?" Avon spun round and looked straight down an arrow shaft that was pointing at his forehead. He went cross-eyed trying to look at the tip but gave up and glared at Legolas, his face irritatingly calm while his arms were straining for the release of the arrow.

"Oh! So you're gonna threaten me with death? Like I really care right now and I know full well that you won't do it anyway coz it's got something to do with the fact that we've got a world to save? Or have you forgotten?" He smirked a little as the bow was lowered and the elf sighed.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because if I do you will feel all sorry and pitiful over her. Mel's past is not that great you know and we both hate to tell people, it just gets irritating."

"I will not pity, but I would like to know what would drive a fem…person to such extremes. You too Avon, have also to explain your reasons for joining, I have never seen such strange people as you and I would like to know you better, if that is at all possible." Legolas waited and finally Avon let it out. It felt so good to just tell somebody about anything, without the overlying fact that they would come and pat you on the back and say how sorry they were and all that crap.

"I've known Mel for just over 10 years now and all that time she has gone through more stuff than you could imagine. A few years ago she met a friend of mine and they basically fell in love at first sight, they got engaged and everything but just before they got married…he was in an accident and was killed." Talking about car crashes would not be the best thing in this world so Avon was dim about all that. "Mel then basically went a little crazy but no one noticed, except me. She has this trick you know, about hiding everything she feels, and basically anything she DOES show is only surface stuff. This "quiet" lifestyle you think women should live nearly got her killed as well and she defiantly lost it, becoming even more engrossed in imagination and losing touch with reality." Avon then looked at the elf and questioned him with his eyes. "Do you really want to know why this is her only choice? Why she doesn't even care anymore whether or not she lives or dies?"

The elf nodded and scuffed his feet, waiting for him to continue.

"You say that a woman's place is to have kids and look after the house…well get this, she can't even have kids. She doesn't even live at home long enough to keep it clean coz the only way she can keep a little sanity is to travel EVERYWHERE. She's lost her happy future filled with no worries, her dreams of children and maybe even grandchildren. Before we came here I knew she was starting to really lose her grip, it was only a matter of time before she tried it again…"

"Did she try to kill herself, Avon?" Damn, that elf sometimes was too smart for his own good.

"Mmm, several times. There's more to it but I'd rather not talk about it, it kinda happened to both of us and that's probably why we're so alike. This whole thing, the Fellowship, the hobbits, elves and magic, it's basically the best thing that's happened to us in our entire lives. But we aren't really meant to be here, I hate this walking, I hate being bored out of my mind and I definitely hate being shot and having my life threatened all the time, but I have never felt like this before, like I am actually accomplishing something. We aren't meant to be here, I don't even know how we got here, and to top it off even if we survive, I don't think we'll ever get back…" He slumped down onto a fallen log and sighed. The effort of even telling that little bit of information was draining and he felt very tired now. Were they going any further today?

"Avon, I had no clue." Legolas sat down next to him. "I am sorry if I judged your friend for…well, where you come from, male and female boundaries may be blurred, but here you must realize that I have been living with our own cultures in mind for my entire life. Here, women just do not do this sort of thing, it is not expected of them unless for self defence." The elf was trying to be apologetic, and Avon could only feel like laughing. Suddenly the whole thing looked ludicrous, with this backward place still worried about "girl issues" when their very existence was on the brink of oblivion.

"Next thing I know we'll be fighting over her, and I'll be winning. HA!" He laughed now. Why was it such a good feeling to laugh? He couldn't help it and slapped his knee, doubling over and bringing his legs up before he realized his balance was compromised and toppled backwards over the log, grabbing the elf's tunic before realizing that he was unprepared for this outburst of mirth and fell over with him. They toppled to the leafy ground in a most compromising position, with Legolas draped over Avon and their legs entwined when a gruff voice called out and a dwarf came into view, popping his head over the log and grinning at the sight.

"Aragorn sent me to find you and…am I…interrupting something?" He cackled a bit and Avon felt basically every blood cell in his body rush to his face, he wouldn't dare. But seeing Gimli grin even wider he knew this would be all over the camp in minutes, so he decided to muster every bit of courage in his system and embarrass the dwarf back.

"Yes, you are actually." Avon tried not to grin at the mortified expression on the elf as he draw him in closer, bringing his face close to the pointed ear and whispering something into it. Realization dawned over Legolas and he complied, hugging Avon back in a most…intimate embrace. Gimli went bright red and disappeared, they heard his pounding feet as they disappeared in the distance before letting go and Avon made a huge show of wiping his clothing and shaking his hands in the air to rid himself of "elf germs" before losing it again and laughing hard.

"I don't think…he'll be sleeping…tonight." Avon gasped and held his stomach, he was getting a stitch from it all. Legolas just sat on the ground and stared at him passively, but even that calm elf couldn't hide a smile tweaking his face before a chuckle escaped his mouth and he patted Avon's back.

"You have a wry sense of humour, mellonamin."

"Huh?"

"It means, my friend."

"Oh, ok then." Avon stopped laughing at this point, a few things resurfacing in his memory.

"Legolas, can I ask you something?" He became serious again and he could see these mood swings were completely confusing the elf. But hey, they confused everybody.

"What does 'Amin ungue arlaiwa, amin gurthmern' mean?" He had been focussing on a stick he was poking into damp brown leaves on the ground, but when Legolas' harsh voice spoke he looked up into the concerned face of his friend.

"Where do you know this from? From whom?" 

"Mel told me once, just after…well, just after it happened."

"When he died?"

"Uh huh."

"I had better not tell you this, it would be better to…have her speak to you personally." Legolas looked a bit sad, but didn't he always look like that? Didn't every single elf under the sun look like that? He hoped it was that simple, that those words that he had copied and memorised over the years were not as bad as it seemed. In fact they had been spoken more than once, in letters, during phone calls, it was like she was telling him something but kept it hidden at the same time. Thinking of this made him all depressed again and the jokes of only a few minutes earlier were gone in a flash.   

"Ah crap." 

"Avon?"

"I can't even stay happy for a few freaken minutes." He sighed.

"Maybe you should talk to Boromir." The elf offered.

"Why?"

"He seems to make you happy whether you want it or not…and maybe you should try and confront Samson, I mean…Mel…I…"

Avon couldn't help but smile, the elf was suffering from identity problems and cultural clashes like he'd never experienced before, it was making him…uncomfortable.

"I'll take you up on that." Avon said, standing up and wiping the forest debris from his clothes. He was going to give Legolas a hand up but the proud elf waved him away and stood up gracefully, they couldn't be anything but.

As they made their way back to the camp, the voices continued but for some reason they weren't as loud or as incessant as before. It was almost as if letting himself go and telling someone something that was hanging on his mind, had relieved the pressure and so relieved the hold the voices had over his subconscious. Thinking this he glanced over to the elf, wondering how he was coping with it all. He was about to ask when the Fellowship came into view and the red face of the dwarf made anything else fly out of his mind. Giving him a cheeky wink and making him flush an even brighter shade of crimson; he laughed inwardly as he fixed up the company's breakfast and helped Sam make a stew of his and Legolas' hunt. He wondered how Gimli would cope with this, maybe he would take it as a huge hint to drop the elf/dwarf bickering and give them some peace for a while? Wishful thinking, and he smiled a bit, sniffing the air and thanking Aragorn from the bottom of his heart for letting them light a fire at least this once.

Now that he was feeling lighter and in a slightly better mood than he had been the last three days, he decided maybe this was the best time to confront his friends, it was a major blow to his pride.

"So, you want me to forgive you? After being all haughty and up yourself the last few days and sending me on a guilt trip like you wouldn't believe?" Mel said, after he was basically on his knees apologizing to her and Boromir for the last half hour. The man had forgiven him almost straight away, but Mel needed a little more convincing.

"Yes." He answered meekly, his shattered pride lay in open pieces around him and was being even more shattered as Mel took her time, um-ing and ah-ing while she made up her mind about him.

"Ok then," she said finally, "but you have to carry my share of the wood for a while, my energy is basically gone." She heaved a big sigh and walked of, leaving Avon with a dumbstruck look and four hobbits staring at him, giggling under their breaths. Avon shot them an evil and got his gear gathered up, they were heading for Caradhras.

* * * *

"Snow!" Avon's yell basically stopped everyone in their tracks and they stared at him like he was mad. 

"Snow." He said again and reached out his arm, trying to catch one of the delicate flakes in his hand. Mel grinned and made her way over to him from her position near the hobbits and stopped just in front of him. He grinned back but focused on the bits of snow landing all over him, melting then being replaced by another until a light coat of white covered his arms, shoulders and hair.

"Yes. It is snow and it may look pretty now, but wait till we see what awaits us further up." Boromir quirked his eyebrows and tilted his head in Avon's general direction. He got the impression most of the Fellowship thought him even stranger than anything they had ever seen before.

"Hey! I've never seen snow before, give a guy a break."

"Never seen snow?" One of the hobbits stared at him in disbelief.

"Yes Pip, he's never seen snow before in his life. And I think he'll be the first here to hate it as well." Mel laughed.

"I'll never hate it." Avon said quietly, pinching the flakes to see their delicate patterns.

Yeah right Avon, think what you want. Within a few hours he was wishing desperately for the sun, the sand, the good old Auzzie weather of 30°C average and a barbecue with marinated chicken. But instead he felt like his nose would simply drop of and his eyes would freeze in their sockets. Mel went to Holland for this?

The wind was howling around them and giving none of their bodies any break from the knife like bites, it hurt like almighty, why didn't anyone complain? He stumbled forward and bumped into something, which then wrapped its arm about him to stop him from going headfirst into the snow and pulled him up.

Avon looked up and squinted and the shadowy shape, trying to make out who it was in the blizzard but gave up and looked back, realizing that everyone had stopped and were now listening to Gandalf say something, his voice was becoming easier to hear as the storm let up a bit.

"This is what I feared, what say you now, Aragorn?"

"That I feared it too," The voice of the shadow called out, leaving Avon and walking towards the other shadow with the tall hat and staff. "But less than other things. I knew the risk of snow, though it seldom falls heavily so far south, save high up in the mountains. But we are not high yet; we are still far down, where the paths are usually open all the winter."

"I wonder if this is a contrivance of the Enemy," another shadow strode forward and as the snow became less harsh. Avon could dimly make it out to be Boromir; his big round shield was unmistakable in his silhouette. "They say in my land that he can govern the storms in the Mountains of Shadow that stand upon the borders of Mordor. He has strange powers and many allies."

"His arm has grown long indeed," said the short stumpy shadow with an axe, "if he can draw snow down from the north to trouble us here three hundred leagues away."

"His arm has grown long." Gandalf repeated, sounding extremely tired for someone who had been so buoyant only a couple of hours before.

"Now what?" Avon muttered, his teeth chattering but the rest of him feeling a little better since the wind had died down. Maybe NOW they could get somewhere...not. They had only started walking again for a short while, Avon noticing they were now on a "path" with a cliff on the left and a drop on the right and thanking the Lord that he could see it so he wouldn't fall screaming into the abyss, when the storm came back. He wrapped his cloak around him tighter and tried to pull up the hood, but it kept on being blown off by the wind so he left it and got frozen ears in the process. He couldn't see, he could barely breathe, he had never felt this cold before and he tried to keep his eyes trained on something ahead and found that one of the hobbits was directly in front of him, all the others were behind near the pony.

"Hi Pip." He poked him in the back and could've laughed at the indignant expression as he turned his head around to see him as they continued walking.

"I'm Merry."

"Well, you both look the same from the back."                      

"I will keep that in mi…" He mumbled and Avon blinked, where'd he go? One minute he was right there and the next…

"Ahh!" He yelled as he sunk up to his chin in a deep drift of snow. Where did THAT come from?

"Avon." A faint voice came closer as it called again and he recognized it as Legolas'. "Avon, are you well?" The elf's shoes came into his vision and if he could, he would have strangled him just for that ability of snow walking.

"I am, but I can't see Merry."

"I'm down here!" Another faint voice called from right next to Avon, but there was the drift separating them as well as the height difference. Avon lifted his arms out and struggled for a good few minutes before he wiggled out and lay panting in the snow, the storm still raging.

"You could've asked for help you know." Mel's shadowy face seemed to grin at him before moving off, Merry's soon replaced it and the little guy patted him on the shoulder as he went to join Mel, the rest of the group had avoided the drift and now stood huddled together, quiet and watchful. 

Avon was going to ask why when an almighty rumble was heard and a boulder crashed into the drift where he and Merry had been only moments earlier. He yelped and jumped back as more followed, accompanied by huge amounts of snow and solid rocks of ice. The group was talking about something and Avon only caught a few bits of it from his place outside the circle, it was something about making shelter here and going back down the mountain, there was no way they could continue.

"Shelter. If this is shelter, then one wall and no roof make a house." Sam muttered, holding the reins of the pony in a death grip from the cold and Avon could see his fingers turning blue, no one had accepted the multicoloured mittens and they had been discarded. They were all wondering now why they had been so damn stupid for a slight fear of non fashion-sense in the middle of nowhere, Avon figured they still had a little annoying thing called 'Stuck-up Pride', they did'nt have to get rid of the mittins though no matter how bright they were.

He was feeling very sleepy. They had gathered together under the cliff and Avon had lain down with his back against the rock, using his cloak to try and cover the two younger hobbits that had latched onto him for warmth. But doing this had left his front wide open to the elements and Bill the pony was only going so far in protecting them from the storm. He wasn't really cold anymore, it was a pleasant numbness running up through him and he fell into a dreamy trance, the effort of staying awake had become too much. But then he realized it was necessary if he wanted to live, so he shook his head, unclasped the cloak so it still lay over the hobbits and stood up, bending his whole body against the wind and pulled his short coat around him. He was beyond freezing and by the feeling of it, one of his boots had a crack and was letting the freezing slush seep in to refreeze around his toes, making them painfully numb.

He wandered around a bit, jumping up and down and kicking his legs to get the circulation going, but the sleepiness took over and he fell asleep on his feet, collapsing in a deep drift and becoming concealed from the rest of the Fellowship.

* * * *

"This will be the death of the halflings, Gandalf." Boromir held the shivering Frodo close to him, wrapping him firmly in his cloak and glowering at the wizard.

"Give them this, just a little bit for all. It is miruvor, cordial of Imladris from Elrond. Pass it round." Gandalf handed the man a flask and Boromir gave a little to Frodo, and then to Sam, then came the dwarf, elf, Aragorn and Samson before he went to find the others. He saw Avon's cloak and the figures concealed under it and prodded them, waking Merry and Pippin from some kind of dream before giving them the cordial too. He then took a sip himself before scanning the snow-whipped area for his friend, and panicked.

"Gandalf!" He called, struggling back to the wizard and waving his arms around. "I cannot find Avon, is he with you?"

"No, the last I saw him he was protecting the little ones from the storm, as Samson here was doing with Frodo and Sam."

"You have to find him! He's ultra sensitive to the cold. We meant it when we said he had never seen snow before, where he comes from it never gets anywhere NEAR cold enough to even frost. Maybe once or twice in five years!" Samson yelled, trying to raise his voice above the howl of the wind.

"Avon!" Boromir hollered, walking back to the pony and out a bit, trying to see something in the blur. "Avon!" he yelled again and took a step forward, stubbing his foot on something and tripping over it, landing on all fours in a deep drift.

"What in the…Avon!" He exclaimed, uncovering the half buried body of his companion and lifting him out of the snow, slipping and tripping as he dragged him back to the relative safety of the cliff.

"Give him some of the cordial, it should revive him." Gandalf commanded and a few drops of the liquid was poured down his throat, inducing the swallowing reflexes before all was still again and they all leaned forward, waiting for a sign of conscious life.

* * * *

"Ow." Avon's first word as the world came back into focus around him. He noticed a small fire going nearby and he sat up, realizing that he had been tucked up into a type of makeshift bed and that he had a funky warm feeling running through him.

"Are you feeling ok?" He looked around and saw Mel sitting right next to him, with her cloak tucked underneath her to protect her from the wet ground. She had a concerned look on her face and Avon couldn't help but feel chuffed, she was worried about HIM.

"Yeah, just my feet really hurt. And I mean really." He tried to lean forward to rub his toes when Mel stopped him, pushing him back until he leaned against some rocks. She didn't look too happy and the chuffness was gone in a wink, he was starting to feel a little worried.

"Um Avon, when you were asleep, Aragorn checked you over and he…er, found something wrong with your feet." She fiddled with the edge of the blanket and Avon felt a pang of panic run through him. It was now that he noticed his surroundings, they weren't on the mountain no more, that was certain and the sounds of wolves were around them in the darkness.

"What was it?" he sounded amazingly calm, even though he trembled like a leaf.

"You got frostbite…really bad."

"How many?" Avon sighed, knowing the answer before it came.

"Your two little toes on your left foot."

"Oh." It was all he could say. He had lost two toes. Well, it could've been worse, he could have been dead. "Thanks for sitting up with me." He said, trying to smile and patting Mel's back. She gripped his hand tight in her own and they stayed like, giving each other comfort as the night wore on and the wolves continued to howl.

TBC

* * * *

A/N: Well, any comments? I know, it's a bit morbid with the toe thing, but I'm trying to make this as realistic as possible, and it's so darn difficult. I think I need a betarer, seriously, just someone to knock me about if I'm dragging it out too much or something, or I repeat myself, or try too hard to make Mel suffer emotionally and Avon physically. I dunno, it's their real personalities here, I mean, Avon got concussion in rugby when he disobeyed the rest of his team mates and coach and barrelled right into this tank of a guy who then flipped him over his shoulder easily. Avon is strong, but he is such a stick (think of Boromir and Legolas going head to head, then imagine Legolas as being a bit shorter and without his elven senses, you've got Avon and the 'Tank' then). Hee hee. He has also broken almost as many bones as OB, and that's a lot. 

This is a Long Fic, so some things are not explained now, they come in later down the track. If I answer everything now, I'll have nada to work with later on. 

Ok, bye. PLEASE review, reviews make me write HEAPS faster *hint hint*.


	9. Beginning of Darkness

Ok, I have been suffering from SEVERE writers block the last two weeks and it just got to a point where I was literally tearing my hair out in exasperation. Never mind the fact that Word has been screwing around and I can't spell or grammer check a darn thing, so I have been having to use ye 'ol Dictionary with paper pages, the good old fashioned book (talk about weird, I almost forgot how to use the thesaurus). Anyway, on top of that, Muse #2 struck me down YET AGAIN with another plot bunny that decided my writers block was non-existant for this new story coming up, but I'm actually liking it though it isn't very long, only a couple of chapters (very long chapters). Also I got in contact with with a fellow Fanfic writer/slash writer. I'm a little scared of our duel idea, seems we both may have a liiiiitle bit of pent up sexual tension, eep! Ok, and I really need to recommend some stories from other authors, but I'll put that in my bio just so you have to go there and see my other stories too (result of plot bunny fury)

Ok, on with the show

**Disclaimer:** This is an official disclaimer as things start to go rather heavily into AU from here on. I don't own anything, not Bill, not the Fellowship and DEFINATELY not the events which go according to the book. All else is mine...I think, I've still got to ask my friends' permission to use them here, and Ken...I don't know who he belongs to but you don't really get to meet him in this chapter anyway, so I won't worry.

**Warning:** Use of swearing, only a little bit still I have to warn you.

**Summery:** The company at Moria, Avon's foot is from now on a major reason for the AU events. Mel has a 7 year long wish granted, but no romance (thank God) ensues. This is actually only the first half of the full chapter I had prepared, but I was advised to split it in the middle as it got rather long.

* * * *

CHAP 9

"Maybe we should send him back, he is in no condition to continue and the way ahead is dark and treacherous. He will merely be a hindrance and time is not a luxury we can afford."

"Why don't you tell that to my face instead of my ass!" Avon's face was red with anger and he limped up to Aragorn, using his staff as an aid. "I'm well enough to fight, if that's what you mean."

The ranger sighed and looked to Gandalf for guidance, but the wizard merely showed his disapproval of Avon's wish to continue by frowning with his eyes.

"You cannot go on! Can you not see this? It is obvious and if it comes to pass that we may need to make haste, you will keep us from doing so. The last few miles have already taken their toll on you, it would be better if you return to Imladris and get treatment from Elrond, your wounds will…" 

"The only thing that's stopping me from walking properly is the balance." Avon interrupted the man, "I can't even feel it anymore and there is no way I'm going all the way back there, I've come too far with this to stop now!" Avon glared fiercely at them, standing still and tall and trying to keep some of his pride intact. They had been hurrying for many hours after the wolves, or wargs as they should be called, had attacked and now that they were standing at the doors to Moria, Gandalf and Aragorn had seemingly come to an unanimous decision; he was too injured to go any further.

Yes, it hurt sometimes, but not as much as he had expected. In fact he had a suspicion that someone had slipped something into his food to dull the pain and now all he had to do was get used to the fact he was missing some small extremities on his left foot. But it was taking its time as well, he had to continually lean on his staff and could never walk as fast as the others, he definitely was slowing them down but not to the point of having to ditch him.

"But Avon, you'll get yourself killed." 

"Shut it Mel. This is between me and Stridey." He glared at her as she came up to the trio; the rest of the group kept their distance and watched the "conversation" warily.

"This is between you and the whole Fellowship." She snapped back, giving him a glare of her own.

"I'm not going to ride a pack pony back to freaken Rivendell! You got it!?" He yelled, becoming impossibly angrier by the second. This decision he had made to stay with them was the most screwed around one yet. He was basically being given safety and an assured longer life on a silver platter with all the trimmings, not to mention freedom from that darn Ring. But nooo, he wanted to play strong hero and die.

"If I may say so, though I know this is not my place, I would think Bill would really appreciate the company. Not saying that ponies get lonesome but, well, there are wolves and goblins and other evil things out there and he may get hurt. And I'm not saying you are too injured to help us, but you may get left behind and I like you too much for that. And anyway, afterwards maybe we all could meet up again later and sit by the cozy fire with some tea and talk about our adventures and…"

"Sam."

"Yes Mister Frodo?"

"You're blabbing."

"Oh. Ok then, I'll stop."

With the unexpected interference of the hobbits, the tense and angry atmosphere had simply dissipated and try as hard as he might, Avon could not bring it back and was literally forced to feel happy. Yech.

"Can you see the dilemma?" Said Aragorn. "You may think yourself invincible now, but it is a four day journey to the other side of the mines and it will test you beyond your limits." 

"Hmph, if Gandalf can figure out the password and get us out of here."

"Samson! He is trying as hard as he might. It is not his fault that his memory is not what it used to be."

"Gimli!" Aragorn scolded.

"I did not mean it disrespectfully of course."

"Sure, whatever. Still, we have been sitting here cooling our heels for ages now. Have you got it yet Gandalf?"

"Not yet Samson, I know I am missing something, important." The wizard stroked his beard and shook his head, pondering deeply before muttering another spell, without any effect as usual.

"I'M NOT LEAVING!" The shout made everyone jump and they all turned to see Avon in a full hand-to-hand fight with Boromir, the larger man trying his hardest to get the injured one onto the pony. Sam ran back and started soothing the frightened animal as Avon kicked and struggled against his friend, his face redder then any had ever seen it.

"Avon! Get on the damned animal!" Boromir grunted, pinning his arms to his side and hoisting him into the air. The man had tired quickly of the heaps of words and had taken things into his own hands, Avon had just played into them unexpectadly.

"No!" Avon yelled, lashing out with his feet and giving the man a good 'ol kick in the shins, but Boromir didn't let go and popped him onto the pony, still holding tight as Avon struggled and squirmed around.

"Oi mister, you're scaring poor old Bill." Sam chastised him and Avon immediately settled down, if only for the benefit of the hobbit.

"Hey Von! You're going back whether you like it or not, it's unanimous." Mel sneered at him, but he knew her way too well to fall for it. She was trying to make him angry at her so he wouldn't want to stick around, he was angry alright, but he wasn't going anywhere. 

He knew he was acting like a spoilt brat. This expedition wasn't about him, it was about the Ring and Frodo, it was about protecting the little Ringbearer at all risks, and what he was doing now was totally against everything they stood for. But right now, he didn't give a flying…

"I'm NOT going!" he shouted again, the sound of his voice ricocheting off the rocks in the valley and to some eyes, making the very water of the stagnant lake ripple with the noise. But with that, Boromir gave the pony a slap and sent him off on a gallop that forced Avon to hold tight unless he fell and broke his neck. Perfect, they were getting rid of him and as all luck goes, by the time he would finally get the animal to stop they would have figured out the password and left him stranded, with no choice but to go back.

But it wasn't meant to be, as Bill cantered around some boulders, something tripped him and sent Avon flying over his head, his hand still tangled in the reins he had twisted round his wrist. He hit the ground painfully, given only a few seconds to see the looks of horror on the faces of his companions who were still by the glowing doors, before he was wrenched into the air and held dangling by his arm in space. 

He had no idea what was going on and at the dizzying height he was at, he couldn't focus on anything except the squeals of terror coming from the pony above him. He was using all his energy to swing out of the way of the thrashing hoofs before they cracked his skull, but on one such swing, something caught him round the ankle and wrenched him free, snapping the reins and sending him flying through the air. He saw the rocks coming to meet him and he shut his eyes, ready for the imminent pain when his body would be dashed to pieces. But instead of hard rocks, he slammed into something soft and by the sounds of it; the soft thing was not very happy catching a 40-mile per hour 88-kilo man with its bare hands.

"Thanks Boro man." Avon wheezed, getting off the ground where they had fallen together and helping the man up himself. Boromir coughed and took the offered hand, motioning for Avon to follow quickly as he ran back to the door where Gandalf was frantically trying to figure out the password still. Avon limped as fast as he could, trying to ignore the sounds of terror behind him and the cries of grief in front, poor Sam was having a fit.

"You must do something, it'll hurt him, he will die! You have to DO something! Please Strider, PLEASE!" The little guy was basically clawing at the ranger with one hand and drawing his sword with the other, ready to charge that…thing. Avon reached the door and turned around, seeing the humongous monster for the first time in all its glory.

Its tentacles whipped through the air, not coming anywhere near them though as it was still busy with poor Bill. Then pony gave one last shriek before it disappeared from view and Avon cringed, the only thing that must of happened was that he had been devoured, and now the monster was coming for them. It shot through the water and reached them in seconds, those huge snake like things lashing out at anything and everything and Avon froze in terror, there was no way they could survive this.

"Oh for crying out…MELLON!" The doors gave a shudder and moved outwards on their own accord, opening to reveal nothing but the blackness of the inside of a mountain.

"Samson?" Gandalf looked at her in surprise as he ushered the hobbits into the mines.

"My abbreviated nickname, 'Mel', you got it? It doesn't take a genius you know to get the 'speak FRIEND and enter' part!" Mel yelled at the shocked wizard and was about to follow them all in when the monster came. Avon could only grip Mel's fingers as she was dragged out of the mines and lifted into the air, a tentacle wrapped firmly around her waist as she struggled and kicked it with every bit of strength she had. But no martial arts could help her now and all her weapons were out of her reach.

Then Gandalf gave a shout and Frodo was up there with her in seconds, dangling by one foot and screaming in terror. Mel dropped her stillness and joined him, their twin screams echoing around the valley as the whole group starting hacking at the snakelike arms, trying to get them free. Avon's heart was in his throat, if anything happened to her, if that thing…killed her, he would rather die himself then live without her. It wasn't that shallow thing people called love, he was beyond that and so was she; it was deeper, kind of like kindred spirits or some rot. But the definitions didn't matter at that moment in which Avon could only hear Mel's scream in his ears, and feel the sword in his hands as it cut into another arm, then another.

Some arrows went whistling past his head and he flinched, knowing full well that the elf knew what he was doing but at the same time wondering if he meant to scare him out of his skin just for kicks. The arrows kept on coming but stopped at the same time a shout was heard behind him. Avon turned and noticed that Legolas was on his back, hacking at a tentacle wrapped around his knees with one of his knives, but it was only for a moment when a battle cry was heard and Gimli's axe cut cleanly through the thing and freed him. In the back of his mind, past the terror and permanent anxiety engrained in there, he found a bit of humour at the fact that Gimli had dropped his vengeance on all elves, just to save to life of one. 

He went back to hacking at those tentacles and noticed something, the creature was waving Mel and Frodo around like it couldn't chose which one to eat first. But when something round and golden showed it's full glory to the world, hanging out from the hobbit's neck like an invitation, it made its decision and literally dropped Mel in mid swing. She went screaming through the air and landed heavily in the shallow water near the shore, but she was fine in all other respects as she struggled to dry land and set to raining her own lot of arrows at the monsters head, trying to miss Frodo as best she could and sometimes it was a close call. Archery at moving objects was not her specialty. Aragorn waded out into the water and Avon noticed him take a deep breath before he swung his sword, they all knew that if he didn't get Frodo now, they would lose him forever.

Damn he's good, Avon though as Frodo hurtled through the air into Aragorn's waiting arms. The man shouted and Avon gave a writhing dismembered piece of 'snake-arm' a final kick before running with the rest of them into the mines, his supporting staff slipping on the wet rocks the whole way until he dived headfirst into the blackness, just as the doors collapsed and all light was gone.      

"What the fuck was that!" Avon hissed harshly after a few moments, his shouting had caused them enough trouble for one day, no need to do it in a place where the sound was more likely to travel miles through solid rock. 

"I do not know, but something has crept, or been driven out of the deep waters of Moria. There are older and fouler things then Orcs in the deep places of the world." Gandalf was almost talking to himself, Avon couldn't see a darn thing and he went onto his hands and knees, feeling around so he wouldn't trip and get himself hurt again. His staff he kept firmly in one hand and as a light started to glow from the end of Gandalf's own staff, he wondered how the heck he had been able to keep a grip on it when he had been hanging 30 meters in the air. The piece of wood was actually starting to get that old and worn look to it, like it wasn't just a showpiece, like it was always being used and had a purpose, unlike him.

He had nearly got them all killed with his stupid tantrum and, as he listened to Sam's sobbing and Merry, Pippin and Frodo trying to comfort him, gave a perfectly innocent creature a gruesome ending. He should have just left when he had the chance, now he was just going to slow them all down and die anyway, something about this place didn't give him the feeling that Gimli's relatives were waiting with open arms. It was too…quiet, like a tomb. The thought made him shiver and he got up, finally given enough light to see by.

"Are you ok, Mel?" He came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She flinched a bit at the touch but he gave her back a rub and she relaxed a bit, still shivering though from cold and retained fear.

"I really thought I was going to die, it was squeezing me and I thought I was going to die. I don't want to die." She whispered, shuddering from trying to suppress her own sobs.

"Mel, I know you were afraid. Damn girl, I was terrified, I thought it was going to have you as a midnight snack." She laughed a little at his warped sense of humour, and he continued. "But you've gotta stop holding it in, why can't you just let it all out, cry a little, there's nothing embarrassing about it. I mean, I cried the first time I met Boromir, and look at me, I'm meant to be the tough full grown male here." he thumped his chest and she sighed.

"Von, it's not that I don't want to show I'm scared, or sad…I just can't. I don't know how." She paused and looked like she was about to say more when a loud sneeze erupted from her chest and she held her mouth, looking like she had just thrown her mother's engagement ring out the window. "I'm sorry." She mumbled as Aragorn came up to her a put a hand on her sopping wet shoulder.

"We need to get you dry or you will get sicker later on. Come with me, I have some dry clothing you can use for now."

"Oh. I can get dressed over there, by myself." She pointed over behind some rocks and Aragorn nodded. Avon figured he was used to this over sensitised need for privacy, just like Boromir was for himself and the ranger went back to where he had put his own pack, and Avon and Mel were left alone again.

"What do you mean, you don't know how?" he said after a moment's silence.

"I mean just that, I-don't-know-how." She hissed as Aragorn came back and she accepted the breeches, chemise, and leather vest with a slight submissive gesture of bowing her head. She had been under the pretence of being a servant way too long.

"When are you gonna talk about it?" he asked, following her to the rocks and leaning against one as she ducked behind, only her head poking out as she struggled with the wet clothes.

"When I know what I'm talking about." She said, motioning for him to turn around. 

He smiled and stayed where he was. "It's not like I haven't seen it all before, like I can't see anything now anyway."

"Just give a girl a break, Von." She sighed and Avon grinned, turning around so his back was to her and he was facing the small huddled group of people, all busying themselves with something or another.

The hobbits were now seated in a circle, their pack contents strewn around them as they divided and badgered over who would carry what since they no longer had a pony to carry the excess; the terrified shrieks of the animal came rushing to his ears and he shook his head, trying to get rid of them as his eyes cast over the rest. Aragorn was conversing with the wizard, who looked even more impatient then the damned dwarf who was doing nothing but fidget and scurry about, he was excited to be in a place like "home". Boromir was acting all aloof with his usual way of projecting false security, but Legolas looked positively terrified and Avon couldn't blame him. Now that the light from Gandalf's staff had lit up quite a bit around them, he realized they actually had a flippen mountain on top of them and they weren't going to see daylight for a least 4 days, more if his foot kept playing up. 

It was also about now that he realized he had claustrophobia, really bad. 

Perfect. He knew Mel had it extremely full on, brought on by the fact her sisters had stuffed her in a suitcase when she was a kid just as a joke, the elf had it even worse but he was very good at hiding it, and now he had had it. No one could of planned it better, the hobbits lived in holes so they were used to it, kind of, this was Gimli's element and the three others didn't look like they could give a damn. Three claustrophobics among the most fragile grouping of people imaginable, crap.

"We're gonna die." Avon mumbled and only the elf heard, his annoyingly sensitive hearing picking up every word but not saying a thing, which made it even worse.

"Samson?" a little voice peeped as Mel came out of her hiding place, wearing quite amusing baggy pants and shirt, with a vest that looked a little too big for her. (Understatement of the year of course)

"Yes Frodo?"

"When you screamed…well, I never knew your voice could go so high, if we had known sooner we could have used it to our advantage."

"How?" Mel was confused.

"It would have scared even the Ringwraiths away." He giggled slightly but didn't manage to get out of the way of Mel's arm as it grabbed him round the neck, giving him a small noogie and making him choke on his laughter so it wouldn't echo. The previous half hour was almost completely wiped from the hobbit's mind. Avon had a distinct feeling that Mel had adopted the hobbits as a kind of substitute for kids, even if they were all older then them. They acted like kids anyway, why not treat them like it?

* * * *

"Mel? I think they're dry."

"You think?"

"Uhh, yeah."

"Ok, I'll go get changed." Mel lifted the staff, which had been propped on her shoulder for the last two days, or nights, he couldn't be sure, and lifted off the clothing that had been drying on the end before scurrying off into the darkness, away from prying eyes.

Avon smiled but didn't know what to think anymore. He was trying to be humorous and light for the sake of his sanity, but if they kept up the pace they had been travelling at for the last couple of days, he knew he wouldn't make it. His whole leg throbbed and ached as if it was still cold, and he knew his continual struggle with his balance was stripping away his energy like nothing he'd ever felt before. But he couldn't complain, he would never complain, it was all his own fault anyway, he couldn't even think about what had made him come in the first place anymore, the pain had driven that off ages ago. 

Then of course, there was the Ring. The pretty little thing sometimes peeped through Frodo's clothing and glinted in the light of Gandalf's staff, teasing him like always. The voices were completely consistent now, they never stopped to even let him sleep, it was only the soft hobbit chatter that would lull him away but as soon as he woke, the voices would be back in full force. There was a difference to them now but Avon didn't know when it had changed, he couldn't even remember anymore a time when there were no voices, only the outside world and his own mind. But now, the voices were softer, a bit more pleasant and likable, he had actually given one of them a name, Ken. His voice was a bit like his uncle's, sweet and lovable while at the same time a little harsh and invasive, but he would have conversations with Avon's consciousness and they would converse about anything and everything, from how dark it was outside this time of night, to when the world would be happy again and he could go home. Home, Ken and him would talk about it sometimes and it would usually bring up the simple subject; why was he wandering around with the "Fellowship" when he could be going home right now? Avon had questioned that and Ken had dropped the subject, going back to how many Orcs they could kill together with one swipe of a sword, it made him almost hunger for their blood.

Then again, sometimes when he wasn't so tired and had a bit of sensible thought left in his head, Ken would sound loony and he would ignore him, simply not talking back while the voice continued telling him about the end of the world and all the wars they would fight. Sometimes Ken was rather annoying. 

When Mel came back, dressed normally again, they settled down to sleep and she did a strange thing in Avon's mind; she didn't sleep with the hobbits like normal, instead she came over to him, laid down by his head and held his hand. It was almost foreign to him now, when had that happened? When had the touch of another person become so strange that he almost recoiled from it? It couldn't have been any more than the last few days, because he distinctly remembered liking to hug people, before the world had gone dark. When the voices didn't have a name.

The thought made him sit up straight, sweat beading his forehead and upper lip as Mel kicked off her blankets and knelt next to him, saying something that he couldn't hear as his mind whirled in confusion. What was going on? Why was the darkness starting to feel like home? Why was he talking with one of the voices? 

But he knew the answer already.

"Mel, I'm losing my mind." He spoke softly and saw her smile, her hand coming up to pull a stray bit of lengthening hair out of his eyes.

"No you're not, we'll get out of here soon. Just a couple more days and…"

"No Mel, I mean it. It's been happening for a while and now…" he gritted his teeth as the pain assaulted his mind, like the Ring suddenly realized that soft words would only go so far and now real action needed to be taken. At the same time a soft yelp was heard from the far side of the group's camping area, making Gandalf raise the light in his staff again and wake up everyone else who had fallen asleep.

"Avon?" She bit her lip in worry and touched his temple, hissing as the pain in his head went through her fingers. "Christ Avon, why didn't you tell me?" She kept her hand there and brought up the other one to his other temple, pressing them hard and massaging behind his ears with her fingers. From limited medical knowledge, Avon knew there was a place behind the ears like a natural shunt, it drained excess fluids from the brain to lessen pressure and usually tension made this 'shunt' seize up, giving killer headaches. "It's the Ring, Avon. It's not to be toyed around like this and you know it."

"I didn't think it was that bad, it was just continuous, always there." He continued gritting his teeth while she worked her magic, the pain lessening until it was simply throbbing and making the world warp a bit at the corner of his vision.

"What happened to him?"

"Is he ok? I mean, he looked like he was hurting but…"

"It is ok Pippin, I think he just needs time alone."

The words drifted over to the two outlanders and Avon raised his head, still letting Mel massage it while they both tried to see what was happening over by that wall over there. It was like the whole Fellowship was crowded together, looking down at something that wasn't there anymore, but instead creeping towards him and Mel like a stealthy cat, not stealthy enough though for Avon.

"You felt it too?" He asked the shadow and it froze, crouching still for a moment before coming closer and his fair face came into view. Sometimes Avon still laughed at the fact they called him fair, but the description had practically forced its way into his own personal thesaurus until he was always using it to describe the elf, even if it sounded daggy.

"I did, and I cannot deny it any longer. The darkness and the lack of nature in this place has stripped me raw, I have been open to It's full onslaught for quite a while now, but not to this extent." He held his head in his hand and shook it from side to side, the golden hair wafting back and forth with the motion.

"Mel, can you work on him?" Avon looked up at her and she nodded, placing his hands where hers were and showing him how to keep the movements going, it wasn't as soothing as having another person do it but it gave the same relief. "Elf," he said, making Legolas look directly at him, "get ready for a famous 'Mel Massage'." He grinned slightly as Mel went round behind the elf, forcing him to sit down on his backside and lean back a bit onto her chest. 

His grin became a little wider as he saw the elf gulp at his position, what made it even better was that Mel didn't know anyone else knew her secret. But then he went back into a polite smile as Legolas relaxed under the deft hands, her fingers intertwining in his side braids to get to right spots before giving up and undoing them deliberately so his hair looked crimped on either side. 

Avon simply watched them, as did the others when they found out where Legolas had got to, but they didn't stay long, just looked with quiet interest before going back to their bedrolls and tried to sleep on the hard rocks. Gandalf kept his light on low glow, Avon figured he was also doing it for their sakes; the darkness was damn scary in this hole.

"Where did you learn this, Mel?" The elf sighed, slumping back further onto her with the continuing relief from the pain that had probably been there for weeks. She smiled at the fact he was calling her by her "nickname" but didn't answer straight away, instead focussing on a nerve junction at the base of his skull, which looked pretty darn painful from the way he was clenching his teeth and fisting his hands.

"My mum taught me." She said finally, moving the ministrations towards his jaw and into the ligaments on the side of his neck. Avon just sat back passively, not worried any more about what effect Legolas' look-alike features did to Mel's sanity, she was in her own personal heaven here, massaging an elf.

"She must be a fine healer." He said, tilting his head to one side to help with the massage of a certain point.

"Yeah, she was." Avon saw the look as she spoke and leaned forward, placing a hand on her knee before she tried to hide the grief again. Mel faltered a bit in the movements as she looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears before they disappeared again; it was a darn stupid habit.

"I am sorry, I didn't know." Legolas leaned back further and tilted his head back so he looked up at her upside down.

"It's ok, it was a long time ago." She smiled sadly and forced his head forward again, focussing on those spots behind his pointed ears once more. 

Dammit Mel, two years is NOT a long time. And now your father…

Avon stopped the direction his train of thought was heading, it really didn't matter what was happening in their own world right now, their old lives were basically dead and buried anyway, they weren't going back. 

A hiss and then a little giggle brought him back to reality and he looked with confusion at the two seated in front of him.

"Well, now you know." Said Legolas, looking a little flushed as Mel rubbed her palms lightly over the top of his head, pulling the hair straight back from his eyes.

"Know what?" Avon asked, looking from the blushing elf to the giggly, almost teenagy girl behind him.

"I had to find out the truth about his ears…you know, the pointy bits." She giggled again and tucked her chin into her chest, trying to keep her hands steady as she slowly finished off the massage by drawing her fingers through his hair, she was smitten.

"Pointy bits?" Ok, confusion setting in.

"A fact about elves, our ears are…how can I say it, sensitive. Very sensitive." Legolas gave him 'The Look', and it hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me." Avon tried not to snort with suppressed laughter, his own pain was nearly gone and even the voices had died down to a whisper, he was able to feel happy again and this was no exception.

"I am not jesting, Samson was most unexpected in his movements. It caught me off guard and will not happen again, if I can raise myself from this position." Legolas looked like he had no intention of moving and Avon grinned, trust an elf to have a 'zone' in the most obvious place.

"Well, I'm finished with you and I need sleep. By the way, what happened with 'Mel'?"

"You will have to earn it back again, my ears are mine, and mine alone." He rolled forward and shook his head, his hair flopping loosely around before he looked back at her and smiled. "But I think you have already earned most of it back. Thankyou, I feel…lighter now."

"Graag gedaan." She smiled back and then added, "It means, you're welcome. It's Dutch." With that, Mel simply closed her eyes, stopped smiling and flopped backwards, falling asleep before she hit the ground. Legolas was alarmed.

"Is she hurt?" He got onto his knees and helped Avon lift her gently back to her "bed". Avon shook his head.

"She does this…thing. Her mum was a Buddhist, or into Mahikari…umm, I think it means they focus on energy or something. But anyway, she taught Mel to focus her own personal energy on a point that needs healing. It ain't no magical cure but it gives pain one hell of a kick in the ass, but it also completely drains her. She'll be out for the count for hours. Tons of people can do it where we come from, just not everybody likes it. Anyone can do it really but I personally seem to have a knack for NOT having a gift for it, with house plants I'm more like a plant-killer then life-giver. Some have it, some don't, and some are way stronger than she is, she's just outta practice." Avon finished and yawned, signifying the need for sleep and the elf nodded.

"We have people like that here as well, like Aragorn for instance. He has the…'knack' for it too." He smiled and shuffled back to his own place to probably sit and daydream all night. Avon didn't even know if the guy even slept.

* * * *

A/N: Ok, I'm changing this down from an 'R' to 'PG-13'. It's a stragedy on my behalf to recieve more reviews, not saying I'm not happy with the one(s) I'm getting now (Thanx tons Anita, I will take your advice on the mittens issue. They were just too proud. I'm very glad it won't get that cold here, but it sure feels like it from my Auzzie pov). Anyway, will post next chapter up quicker than this one, maybe in a couple of days (if I'm lucky). Also, 'Pippin The Fruit' is veeeery slowly progressing, will get the next chap for that and all my others up asap, blame #2, he's the plot bunny menace. Hee hee.

REVIEW!!! They make me write a heck of a lot faster and give me inspiration for my other stories, the ones that some people are emailing me to write faster with threats involved. lol.


	10. Obsessions With Death

**A/N: **Ok, this chapter gave me a really big headache as the story evolved and I came across more plot holes than I could possibly imagine. I really need a Beta Reader, I don't get many reviews for this and it restricts my ability to give myself a critical analysis to my own work. Though I must say thankyou to Taraeldaiel and all faithful Anita, even if you both didn't really enjoy the 'Bill' part in the last chapter. On the 'ears' thing, I had read somewhere that an elf's ear is a particularly erogenous zone and it got me thinking, what if Mel was simply curious…poor Legolas. I suppose by now you can pick out my favourite character WITHOUT looking at my bio, I'm also susceptible to Pippin and Boromir (that's why he isn't such a villain in this story like many others, I always saw him as brave and considerate, the Ring just warped it and screwed him up).

**Disclaimer:** Same as every other chapter, am really going to stop doing this as I will NEVER own them and disclaimers are just toooooooooooo repetitive.

**Summery:** They are still in the mines, Ken comes into play and Avon discovers things about himself…too late. Gandalf…well, ye shall see. Not for Sam and Avon lovers.

**Warning:** Battle, so this means death and fighting. Slight swearing again and small drug use (smoking, this is only PG-13 after all). Definitely not for Sam lovers.

* * * * 

CHAP 10

Day four, he thought. Maybe day five but he couldn't be stuffed keeping time anymore, his foot was screaming blue murder, and that was enough for him to say they had been in the mountain WAY too long. They had been climbing all day, just endless amounts of steps and passages that simply didn't stop, no way could a mountain be this big but every time they turned a corner and he thought they were home free, it would just be another hall or passage. At one point they had to bend double and the walls enclosed them on either side and Avon had his first open panic attack, Mel soon followed and the rest of the group had to almost carry them out the rest of the way. The elf had come up behind and when they finally emerged into another spacious area, he looked as pale as a starched sheet; they were going to be in trouble if this kept up.

Back to the present, they had stopped for what Gandalf said would be the last night until they got out, and Avon had to have another smoke or his nerves were going to collapse. He slumped down against a wall, a fair way from the rest of the group and took out his pipe and rather diminished packet of tobacco, or pipe-weed like the hobbits called it and proceeded to try and light it with his worn down flint. He was almost in tears when he couldn't even get a spark to come and he chucked the rock off in the distance, not knowing where it went until a tall shadow loomed over him and dropped it back at his feet.

"I think this is yours." Aragorn stared down at the pouting young man before sighing and sitting in front of him, pulling off his sheathed sword and placing it next to him before staring at Avon again with those stormy grey eyes. He was very unnerving.

"What is troubling you my friend?" he asked, picking up the discarded pipe and sweeping the fallen bits of leaf up with his other hand while he waited for an answer.

Avon just stared at the floor, the depression weighing on him like it had once, many years ago. He had almost forgotten what it felt like, that dead feeling you got deep inside that seemed to snuff everything else out until you just couldn't care less about anything around you. The only thing that had kept him moving after the tunnel was the feeling he would be letting everyone down, showing his weakness so to speak. But now that freedom was near, that they would only be spending one more night in this enclosed nightmare, he was feeling even less like caring then before. The last straw was his flint not working.

"Nothing, I'm bored." He mumbled, not noticing that the ranger had fixed his pipe up again and was now lighting it with his own, fully workable flint that was as dry as a bone, Avon's must have been damp from his water skin that had split a bit earlier on.

"Here, it's lit. Do you still want it?" He puffed on the pipe to get it going before handing it to Avon. He took it slowly and put it to his own mouth, dragging even slower to get the full effect and holding his breath before letting it go again. His muscles relaxed almost instantaneously and he sighed, wishing Mel could give him a massage right about now.

"Your hands are shaking, Avon, pray tell me what is the matter? A hand does not shake on it's own accord without proper reason." Aragorn added, as Avon hurriedly tucked the offending extremity into his jacket and fell into a rhythm of inhaling and breathing out continuously so he wouldn't have to answer.

He knew his hands shook; he had put it down to nerves and pure anxiety. He may have forgotten basically everything about the book, but from the way things had been going on and the way Mel was starting to act all strange without telling him why, he knew there was some kind of climax coming up, and it was coming soon. From experience, the climaxes were not always the best thing; in fact so far they had all resulted in getting him injured in some way. He was in deep shit.

"It's nothing, just cold." He tucked his cloak around himself tighter and pulled his legs up, leaning his chin on his knees as he held the wooden pipe between his teeth. There was no more talk, the other man simply lit up one himself and started smoking. Then Mel joined them, then the hobbits followed closely by Gimli and Gandalf and soon a cloud of smoke hung over the small group while Boromir and Legolas looked on in disgust.

"Galenas." Legolas shook his head.

"Westmansweed." Boromir looked at the elf and they caught eyes.

"How can they stand it?" They both said simultaneously and smiled. If their companions wanted to smell like rotten eggs, so be it, it didn't mean they had to be near them all the time though. 

The next "day", Avon woke up to a pleasant surprise. There was light around him that was for once not from Gandalf, instead it came from a long ray of sunlight streaming through some high window a fair way away, but since they had been in pitch black for nearly 5 days it looked brighter than it really was. This extra large coffin actually had windows.

Ken had been keeping his mind fully occupied now, even when Boromir would crack a really lame joke or Mel would punch him to grab his attention, all he would do is smile politely at them instead of complaining and walk on, or limp as it should be put. 

He grumbled as he got up, his completely useless foot now dangling and he flopped it around experimentally; maybe he should take off his boot and check it out.

'No need, we already know it is infected. Why see to the obvious?'

"Coz I just want to check it out is all." Avon spoke openly to his permanent parasite; he had given up trying to speak to him in his mind only shortly after Ken had come into existence as his thoughts got too jumbled to form a proper sentence. It got weird looks from the others, especially Gandalf and Aragorn, Mel just put it down to the length of time down here and Boromir simply stayed silent on the matter, like it didn't really bother him.

'But you must make haste to keep up with the group, they will leave you behind for the betterment of the Ringbearer. You know this.' Ken sounded convincing but Avon wasn't going to fall for it.

"Look, I'm just going to sit for a minute and see what it looks like. They're having breakfast so there's plenty of time." Avon whistled softly as he untied the laces that had been made tight to support the numb foot before pulling off the boot, waiting for a bit until he did the same with the bandage. Before he finished though a small voice piped by his ear and he jumped.

"What are you whistling?" Sam asked, coming around to the front and waiting while Avon got his nerves back from the shredding room.

"Um, 'Men in Tights."

"Men in Tights? Who would make a song like that?"

"Mel Brooks, that's who."

"Who is Mel Brooks? Another "friend"?

"Well he…I…you're quite the curious one aren't you." Avon ruffled Sam's curly mess of hair and the hobbit smiled shyly, ducking his head and pulling his legs underneath him.

"Mister Frodo says it is what got me here in the first place, sticking my nose where it didn't belong."

'He's hiding something.'

"Are you sure he said that? I didn't think Frodo was so…forward." Avon continued unwrapping the bandage and ignored Ken completely.

"Well, he didn't say it right out, but I got that impression. If I hadn't been listening in to their conversation, his and Gandalf's so to speak, I wouldn't be stuck under a mountain somewhere, miles and miles from my own nice warm hole and garden. I'd hate to think what those wretched Sackville Baggins's are doing to poor mister Frodo's flowers, probably left them to freeze instead of trimming them like they should, even though me old Gaffer would take care of them. I don't think he'd come within ten feet of Lobelia though; she is far too scary for what's good for a hobbit. 

Then again, I'm glad we're having an adventure, like Mister Bilbo had with the dragon and eagles, but he didn't have the whole of…er, the black country coming after him. It just isn't right Mister Frodo should be caught up in this, with the Ring and all, and not enough food is simply wrong for a hobbit his size. He's getting awfully thin. And then there are those two rapscallions, especially Pippin. What a silly thing to do, throwing a rock down a well, who knows what could have been down there." Sam took a breath and Avon put a hand on his shoulder, calming the over hyped hobbit down a bit so he could get a word in edgewise, the little guy was like a full blown engine when he wanted to be.

"I think your curiosity was the best thing that's happened to us, I haven't been this entertained by a singular person for ages." Avon smiled and Sam grinned in reply.

He was glad that the hobbit had forgiven him for the incident back at the lake with the pony, Sam had been overly attached to the animal and he wondered if the little guy would ever talk to him again. That had been resloved only shortly after, when they stopped for their first meal in the dark and Sam had made quite a feast with their meagre food items. Avon's compliment had made amends and the hobbit had become a little closer to him than before, like his curiosity would never be quenched.

'He is still hiding something, it is about me, it is about what you are doing still tagging along with them. He's come to give you a message from Gandalf; ~stay and rot~ he says, they don't want you to come anymore. You have slowed them down too much, they can't afford to have you around anymore.'

"Shut up." Avon growled startling Sam into an almost teary look.

"Not you. My head's just going nuts on me." Avon used his most convincing 'forgive me' look and Sam smiled again, shaking his head.

"I thought you were different, the first time I met you that is. Even Samson doesn't seem the same, even though you are both brethren, you seemed to be the one that was more likely to pick a fight or something. But I like you anyway, even if you are a bit strange, I think the strangeness makes you, you."

Avon grinned slightly, but then the grin turned to a grimace as he peeled away the damp bandage and revealed what was underneath.

"Oh Avon, how could you let it get like this. We must fetch Strider, he will heal it for you." Sam made like he was about to run off and grab the ranger in seconds, when Avon held him down and whispered hoarsely to him.

"No. I can't let him know; no one else must know either. If they do they'll slow down so I can catch up, and if we must run, we'll all be screwed. It's better if they don't know so only I will be left behind, not all of us." He looked braver then he felt, for sure.

Sam looked a bit torn for a minute, letting his mind tick over some things before he nodded slowly, and very reluctantly.

'You want to die?'

No, thought Avon as Sam slowly made his way back to Frodo and they listened as Gandalf gave them a run in to what was happening. I want them to live.

They marched now, Avon gripping his staff in a death like strangle to keep upright and seemingly looking ok. He was in pure agony now, the ache had worked its way up to his knee and even though his foot was numb, the rest of his leg sure wasn't. Infection, just short of gangrene; his foot looked swollen with all sorts of disgusting fluids and stuff, but the place where his two toes had once been scared the hell out of him. The area had been black, just simply stone black and the area that was covered by this blackness was spreading, he was terrified of what it could mean.

But when they came to a big square room that was almost blinding to the eyes with the light streaming into it, his terror for his feet turned to terror for his life. 

The whole area was littered with old armour, swords, scimitars and shields, but worst of all was the amounts of bones mixed in with them, some were still rotting away like there was no rats to come and eat them. The thought made him want to throw up, really bad.

"Here is written in the tongues of Men and Dwarves. Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." Avon looked quietly over at Gandalf who was softly brushing the dust off the high stone tomb. He thought he'd seen the dwarf in all his splendour of emotional coldness since knowing him. But when the guy knelt down and wouldn't let anyone see his face, Avon realized that he was as human as the rest of them, even the elf.

"Look, a book." The strained and scared voice of Mel started them all out of their own private sorrow by bringing a very old and falling to pieces book to Gandalf, placing it carefully into the wizard's hands as he looked at her strangely, before he started to read. It wasn't very encouraging, hearing about the deaths of tons of dwarves, and then of the squid thing at the entrance they called the Watcher in the Water. It went on until…

"We cannot get out…drums, drums in the deep. They are coming." Gandalf looked up at them and Avon stared back, their climax was coming…now.

BOOM.

The sound made everyone jump out of their skins nearly and all eyes turned to Frodo. He looked very pale as he held his sword out, the tell tale blue glow telling Avon he would never see the sky again.

"Shit!" he swore as he stood next to Mel, both watching and listening in horror as the nightmarish booms came closer and closer, until they literally crashed against the barricaded door and made Avon's heart lodged in his throat. He couldn't fight properly; he needed to find some way of preserving himself for as long as possible and he tore his pack off his back, rummaging around in panic for what seemed like forever.

"Ah hah." He whipped out the phial of poison and dipped the corner of his cloak into it, soaking it before wiping the stuff over every sharp thing he had. "Here Mel, use this but not all of it." He shoved the small bottle into Mel's hands and she did the same as him before returning the still relatively full bottle of poison. 

Then it started.

Ok, I need to kill them. Avon stood with his feet braced as the first onslaught came at him, but was startled and incredibly worried when his body didn't respond. Feet…move! He looked down at his frozen body before looking up at a creature coming towards him, it's huge underground formed eyes glinting evilly. Why wasn't he trying to protect himself?

He quickly spared a glance at Mel right next to him and realized that she had never really fought before, never had killed anything and she was also frozen with this realization in terror, her eyes wide and teeth biting into her bottom lip so it was bleeding. Suddenly something pushed Avon into Mel and they both toppled over, hitting the ground hard with Avon on top of the smaller body in a painful embrace.

"Get up and fight! You need to fight!" Boromir grabbed Avon's arm and wrenched him up, pulling his sword simultaneously from the Orc that had been charging them seconds before. "Please Avon! You need to live." The man's despairing stare caught Avon off guard as he helped Mel to her feet, paralysis wearing off as the reality of the situation hit him like a slap in the face. No…wait, it WAS a slap. Boromir had just slapped him!

"Boro?" Avon felt his cheek and stared in shock at the pleading expression on his friends face, he hardly noticed Mel running off as he questioned Boromir's motives in his mind.

"Just…just survive. Live." The man gave him another pleading look before he had to turn around, decapitating an Orc that was about to skewer him. 

Avon felt that bloodlust seep into his blood again, throbbing through his veins and pushing all reasonable thought aside before he really deciphered what Boromir was trying to tell him. That he knew what the future held for the younger man, the one who shared his voices, even though Boromir didn't know that fact for himself. But Avon had been so caught up with his lack of faith in his own mortality that it was hard to deter the need for death, to the need for life. He only survived to buy time. 

He was wondering if this was what the inside of a sword filled tornado felt like, him spinning in every direction to kill another creature, just to have another one come at him from the other side. There was no rescue party this time, not even sky to welcome him when he would take his last breath. He was so certain he was going to feel something sharp impale him and then it would be all over that the rest of the Fellowship almost stopped, and stared at his near insane barrage of attacks and kills. An orc was swinging at Merry and Pippin and the thing dropped at their feet without a head, Avon smiling down at them with a cold glint in his eye before going off to meet his death yet again. His foot sliced with pain every step he took but he gritted his teeth and ignored it, focusing on holding his sword with his right hand, and his staff with his left. But Lady Luck was on his side, the guardian angle kept him alive if not completely unscathed and unthreatened.

Of course the troll came right behind him, fate couldn't have planned it better and he turned, staring up at it with a fully working mind, but a totally paralysed body. His 'fight or flee' sensors raging in a full blown battle of their own. The troll swung its club and hit something, it cracked and smashed around Avon's ears and he realized a pillar almost crushed him. That got him going and he hobbled out of the way, leaping as the club smashed down where he had been only microseconds before. There were voices around him and he squinted through the dust, trying to pinpoint where Frodo was, he had to protect Frodo, the guy was the most important thing right now, he had to protect the hobbit…hobbits plural. They had all had to be protected. Mel?

"MEL!" He screamed through the haze and she turned just in time to stab an orc through the stomach with her spear, her long knife still sheathed as she couldn't swap weapons in mid fight as easily as the battle hardened warriors here. It was too close range to use her arrows with the limited skill she owned and she had been staying close to Legolas, her quiver always facing him in case he ran out. Aragorn, Gimli and Boromir had been killing everything and were now zeroing in on the troll, this gave Avon time to search for the hobbits that were being cornered by some huge creature that looked like an orc, but was way too big. He ran screaming at it, holding his sword up and aiming for a certain spot on the creature's back, but he wasn't prepared for what happened next.

"What the…" How had the thing turned round so quick? And how did it get his staff into its hands? He dumbly computed this for a second before jumping back, the spear head missing his face and chest but catching him on his wrist, just nicking him slightly before the stick was pulled back into his own hands and rammed into the creature, killing it instantly. 

"Go!" He yelled at the hobbits as they ran out, all regrouping near Gandalf. He counted them, one…two…three…fou… "Frodo!" He screamed as he saw the little guy being cornered again, this time by the troll that had got away from Aragorn and the others. He ran as fast as he could towards it, slicing the tough skin behind the knees with his sword only very slightly, but enough to divert its attention back to him as Mel came up next to him.

They simply looked at each other, terror was mixed with tears and blood all over Mel's face, red as well as black and he could see why. Her jerkin was torn on her upper arm where an arrow had skimmed past and given her a pretty deep flesh wound; the area was tightly and hastily bound with a strip or something from her cloak. They looked at each other, searching the other's face for something to grab hold of in their last moments, something to tell them exactly why they were here, living out a life that Avon had only dreamed of in nightmares, always waking up in his own home, his own bed, in his own life. 

He felt wretchedly ill, his stomach was doing summersaults now and he looked back to the troll, the instant of reveries passing as quickly as it came as he hurled his spear at the thing's head, keeping his hand on the end even when it snapped in two and fell useless to his feet. It was a shock, the staff had been the last thing of his previous life and he picked up the pieces, numbly tucking them into his belt while good old Legolas got a clear shot and killed the beast where it stood, him and Mel hopping out of the way as it crashed to the ground and revealed a dead body.

Silence. A sob from Sam.

Silence. He did not move.

"No." Mel whispered and turned Frodo over, his face calm and pale while his eyes stayed closed. Avon let her pick him up and hand the limp figure to Aragorn, the man taking him sadly before they rushed out the other door, trying to get away from the next load of orcs coming up behind.

Sam looked like he'd been hit, he was staring continuously at Aragorn's back as they hurried through the halls and out into some open area, Merry and Pippin were further ahead but Avon couldn't see them, his head was turning around and around and he grabbed Mel's shoulder, pulling out her own staff from it's holder and using it for his new support. She gave him a worried glance and he smiled.

"Go help the two little ones, I'll help Sam." He rasped, his chest was hurting and his head throbbed. He felt like being violently sick but he had to keep on running, to get away from something new, something huge and very very hot. He saw her face becoming red in the light of the flames behind him and her eyes reflecting the thing he didn't want to see, like a demon…or the king of all demons, the source of pure evil. She looked terrified for an instant, gripping his arm and pulling him with her, forcing him to keep the pace high as his blood pounded in his ears and the most beautiful bridge in the world came into his vision. He shoved her forward.

"Merry and Pip, they need you." He pleaded again and this time she complied, using an extra burst of energy to catch up with the hobbits and grab their hands in reassurance, making Merry go in front with Pippin behind so they could cross the narrow bridge single file, fear of heights not an option.

"Goodbye Mel." He whispered, falling way back until he was alongside the wizard, both running at an equal pace of deteriorating speed. Gandalf gave him a good long hard look before shaking his head and whispering into his ear.

"You must try to the end, young one. Even if you feel you cannot." The wizard gripped his shoulder and a new burst of energy passed through him, forcing him to go ahead of the wizard, if only slightly and make it to the bridge before him. Then it was gone and he had to stop, realizing he was a good way over and that the rest were looking back in his general direction on the other side, they were looking at Gandalf.

The idiot, what did he think he was doing? He was facing the damned demon, waving his staff around like he couldn't care less and the thing was…dear God it just hit him with the fiery sword and it shattered, but Gandalf looked hurt, he had to help.

Avon was almost on the other side, almost to freedom and he saw a lone figure running down towards him as the world tipped and swayed. The bridge gave a huge shudder and he was flung off his feet, landing hard on his stomach as he squinted through the building haze in front of his eyes, seeing the flames disappear. Seeing a figure turn around slowly walk back before flame came round his feet and pulled him down, dragging him over the edge as he shouted before disappearing too. What was happening to him? He felt so…sick. Avon basically had lost all comprehension of what was happening now and he scrunched his face up in confusion as the world tipped once more and he started to fall, literally going over the edge of the bridge and ready to meet the darkness below.

But then something grabbed his arms and he looked up through the haze, his comprehension returning with the shock that he was dangling over nothing with only a small figure half his size holding him up.

"Sam?"

"Couldn't leave you behind Mister Avon." The guy was in pain from holding so much weight and he gritted his teeth as Avon kicked and struggled to get up, not even thinking why the hobbit would chose him over Frodo. Then he heard a scream as Sam lost his footing and they fell together, more screams echoing in his ears from those above who'd seen them fall into the darkness of the abyss.

And they fell, and this time he couldn't be more certain of death than he was now.

'You failed them' Ken sneered before only black and silence were his companions and the Ring was no longer a threat, drifting away, passing into a seemingly endless unconsciousness.

It was death at it's utmost.

TBC

* * * *

YES! A cliff-hanger, in the most literal sense possible! I decided to give some dastardly cliff-hanger genius's a taste of their own medicine, though I'm not a genius. PLEASE review. I'm starving here!!!! And flames shall be used to light a nice warm fire in these -8°C temperatures.

Ta ta


	11. Reflections

Ok, this is my longest chapter yet and I REALLY want to thank Anita, Taraeldaiel and a new reviewer, SailorGurl for your WONDERFUL reviews. I was actually stunned I got three for the last chap and I thought "Hey, what the heck, I'll give them the next one early". This is split into different POV's of different people, but I don't like announcing that fact at the beginning of each pov so I just leave you to your own guesses, it's really easy.

**Disclaimer: Still don't own them**

**Summery: Sam, Avon and Gandalf have fallen, people face grief in their own way and Mel finds solace in the Golden Wood, MUCH to the surprise of Aragorn.**

* * * *

CHAP 11

Legolas couldn't understand it; Mithrandir had stopped, and the man, he was almost safe, he was almost with them and then it was like his body simply gave up and collapsed, hitting the stone with a resounding thud as Mithrandir challenged the monster. Then Sam, dear brave Sam, when Mel was held back by Aragorn and Boromir, Sam had squeezed through and had run to Avon's aid, reaching him just in time as the vibrations through the stone threw the limp body off the bridge. It was then that the two men had followed, only to stop as Sam screamed and fell with the young man and they disappeared from sight, despite Merry, Pippin and Mel screaming for them.

Mithrandir, Avon and Sam, lost in the depths of the mines of Moria, Frodo lying as dead in the arms of Estel. Such a tragedy would not be easily forgotten for many years by the world, entrenched forever in the memories of the company.

"Come! I will lead you now!" Aragorn ran back up with Boromir just as the rest of the bridge crumbled and a smoky cloud of dust billowed around the horror-frozen group. Aragorn grabbed the elf's arm, snapping him out of his daze and picked up Frodo where he had been laid on the ground. "We must obey his last command. Follow me!"

Yes, Gandalf had called to them, moments before he was dragged into the pit. 'Fly, you fools!' he called, a typical thing for the wizard to say, even in his last moments.

They ran now, the wrath of Aragorn was not to be challenged and he mowed down any remaining Orcs in their path as they shot out into the sunlight, the drums booming beneath their feet before they faded away into deathly silence.

Aragorn laid Frodo out on the rocks, an unnatural smile playing on his lips and his pale face looking even paler in the light of early day. Merry and Pippin stumbled over to them and dropped silently next to the hobbit, tears streaming down their faces as Gimli and Legolas followed while Mel stayed behind, Boromir staying close while keeping an eye on her frozen, stony-faced figure.

After a few heart-stopping moments, in which Aragorn checked and tended to the injuries to his head, Frodo stirred and blinked at the faces above him.

"What happened?" He asked groggily, sitting up with some help and staring around at the grief-ridden expressions he blinked again in confusion. "Where is Gandalf?" They saw his face scrunch up as Aragorn shook his head and held his shoulders.

"I'm afraid we have lost our great leader, he fell into the abyss. I am so sorry, Frodo." He said as the hobbit held his stomach and struggled openly with the pain in his head and chest as the sobs wracked his body.

"Sam?" He stuttered, looking up again to spot his closest friends face and to possibly derive some comfort from him. It was then he spotted Mel and Boromir, the older man sitting on the rocks with his head in his hands, Mel wondering around and kicking at stones, Avon was nowhere to be seen, as was his friend. "A…Avon? Sam?" None could be prepared for the wail that erupted from the hobbits mouth as Aragorn once again shook his head, gripping the small body to his chest as the rest grieved in their own way, some standing and silent, some cast upon the ground.

Legolas cast his eye around the group as they grieved, they were covered with grime and blood, the latter Legolas doubted they would ever be rid of the smell. "The voices will torture you no more, my friend." He whispered to the dark opening in the mountain's face, using much energy to hold back his own grief and keep the pain at bay. His suspicions of Avon's death forcing the ring to place more emphasis on himself seemed well founded right now, the headache was back and worse than it had ever been. He ignored it.

Boromir tried to make her cry; he tried long and hard whilst at the same time trying to overcome his own tears as they coursed down his face, he had even gone as far as slapping her, with no reaction except a returned black eye. Legolas couldn't do anything but keep it inside, to be let out when he was alone and no one would witness the grief of an elf, it was a deeply private matter that could only be shared with one of his own kind. He was slightly glad they were heading for Lothlórien now, even though they had many miles to travel till they got there. Following the stream that became the Silverlode further on before it joined the Great River. He kept his own grief till later, but from the knowledge he had gathered from Avon he knew the grief Mel kept hidden would never be released in any way, privately or in the open. Boromir's tries were to be in vain.

They kept the pace up for quite a while, Legolas running easily alongside the two men and sometimes dashing up ahead to scout the area before coming back to run beside them once more. They did this for a fair while before the elf looked back, and came to the closest he ever had come to an outward show of pure panic; Gimli, Mel and the hobbits were nowhere to be seen. Not that he worried for the dwarf as much.

"Aragorn!" He shouted to the two men, grabbing their attention before running back, finding the rest of them within a few minutes at his speed. They were grouped together and Legolas felt a surge of guilt at their condition. The dwarf and Mel stood to one side, keeping an eye out while the three remaining hobbits huddled against one another, one holding his chest and breathing harshly. After a short while Aragorn came up with Boromir struggling behind, the Gondor man was surely wearied beyond coping but he was keeping it up for the rest of them.

"I am sorry Frodo!" Aragorn sounded full of concern as he knelt next to the injured hobbit. "So much has happened this day and we have such need of haste, that I have forgotten that you were hurt in more places than just your head. And you too Samson." The man looked up towards Mel and she simply stared back, the sparkle in her eyes completely quenched to give them a cold piercing look. She stayed silent and ignored his outstretched hand to offer his healing services, walking away to stand next to a lone tree and looked out at the valley below.

Aragorn frowned but set to work on Frodo, exclaiming on his hidden shirt of mithril that had saved his life while Gimli commented in wonder. The elf followed the cold figure.

"Mel?" Legolas approached the girl cautiously, coming around to the front of her and cocking his head, waiting for her to answer. She kept quiet and stayed stony, simply meeting his gaze of worry with her newly created icy one.

"Don't touch me." She whispered finally when his hand rested on her shoulder momentarily. He withdrew it and sighed in resignation as she walked off again, this time to sit on a small hillock that was separate from the group. He had spoken to Avon many times since she had messaged him, always wondering why she kept so much hidden and he had discovered many disturbing things about her mind.

Something had happened to her, and Avon had been a witness to it. He never elaborated but vaguely gave the elf the impression that he had not only been a witness, but had been in her position as well. To put it lightly, they had both lost their innocence in the worst way possible at the same instant, one recovering substantially though still with emotional scares, the other losing all grip on reality and partial sanity. 

He had told the elf about a system of education that came in stages of a young person's life, all received it, no matter their gender or class status and it was obligatory until the age of 15 in which they could choose to either continue or choose another path in life. Mel had gripped with her fingertips the whole way through, finally graduating and receiving an inner summons to leave her home country and travel abroad, leaving her old life behind as the new embraced her with welcome arms. Avon had told him his suspicions that it was most probably brought on by a last resort from resurfacing memories, the only thing she could do short of ending her own life.

Legolas shuddered inwardly at the cruelty this different world had imposed on such a young, sweet creature who's innocence had been stripped away to force them to create a shield of emotional protection, to prevent themselves from being hurt anymore. She had made a new life, her intelligence helping her secure an independent future in something Avon called 'Journalism'. It was then that the elf fully realized why they thought his culture was backward; they had evolved past those restrictions imposed upon people, to allow everyone to be equal unless they chose different.

She had then dropped those barriers, allowing such things as love and confidence to enter and life looked bright, a wonderful future spreading before her. Then within a space of 4 years, it all crumbled about her and the barriers were rebuilt, possibly never to be removed again. Her choice of family stripped away, her love killed unexpectedly, her mother's death and then her father being struck down with an incurable sickness. And now this, he could see the strings holding that fragile sanity together fraying rapidly under the pressure of hidden grief, if it was not released he could see them losing another member of the Fellowship, very soon.

His reveries passed onto other things and he looked up at the sky, checking the time before making his way over to Boromir, the man was still deep in grief and the elf didn't know what to do except sit by him and stare at nothing.

"I could have returned," the man's quiet and choking voice startled Legolas slightly and he shifted his position to listen better. "Mithrandir needn't have fallen if I had been swifter. Damn that man!" Boromir glared up at Aragorn who was shaking the mithril shirt about, the sunlight catching the precious gems and Gimli caressing it with something akin to complete fascination. But then he sighed and shook his head, letting his strong demeanour fall as he slumped forward with his face in his hands. "No, it is my fault alone. My fault..."

Legolas looked on helplessly, his experience with mortal grief was limited and he knew not how to respond to this outward show of emotion. The man had never done this before.

"Twas nobody's fault," the elf offered, "Gandalf knew somehow and his sacrifice ensured the Ringbearer's safety. The world has lost a great being, but it is no living person here today's fault. Believe me." 

"But you're wrong." The man murmured, picking a thread in his cloak. "I knew what was going to happen and I did nothing…NOTHING!" He slammed his fist into the ground and gasped, bringing it up to revealed that he had just short of impaled his hand in a protruding stick, the whole side covered in blood but not too serious. Legolas was a little shocked by the outburst but swiftly started inspecting the hand with a critical eye.

"You will live." He smiled, if a little grimly at his pathetic attempt at lightening up the atmosphere, the man needed a friend, not a joker. The joker and friend of his life was dead.

Boromir just nodded and set his jaw. "I knew what would happen to him, I tried to warn him but I should have just told him straight out and stayed by his side. This would never have happened. That damned Ring has destroyed too many lives and I see my folly now, but I am too late, too late…he was so young." He was trying so hard not to break down again, but it was painfully obvious to the elf that his grief was overwhelming him extensively, beyond comfort.

But what had he just said? How could of he known what was to befall three of their companions? Or just one…the voices. Legolas blinked, the only reaction he let show for the sudden realization flooding through him. He had known that there was another in the Fellowship that heard the voices apart from Avon and himself, and now it came to him, Boromir. They had told the man what was going to happen to Avon and possibly gave him more temptations then he could possibly handle, but by sheer determination he had pushed them aside and just tried to tell his friend in the best way possible to simply hang on, and survive. But now that the voices' prediction had become true, Boromir blamed himself anyway, whether it be his fault or not.

This mission had done more than take away three beings, one of which his was doubting they would get past the obstacles to come with much success without him, no matter how much faith he had in Aragorn. It had changed the elf's whole perspective of life and he realized now what that meant, for the first time he was afraid of death. If it could snatch away three in such horrifying swiftness, it could do the same with any one of them left in the Fellowship. Immortality meant nothing to it; he was simply another living being for it to snatch away.

Legolas sat and pondered while Boromir sobbed quietly beside him, totally engrossed in his own guilt and grief. The elf simply kept to himself in this matter as he still was no closer in understanding human grief, the man would be alone with this until what time he conversed with Aragorn on the matter. Until then, there was nothing he, nor anyone one else could do.  

* * * *

"Daro!" The soft voice called from above them and Aragorn started in surprise as the elf dropped back down, hushing them with a look and pointing up to the think intertwining braches of the mallorn. The elvish voices started speaking and Aragorn relaxed, recognizing one of them and understanding their intentions as being friendly, yet very cautious. He watched with semi interest as Legolas was told to climb that silvery ladder with Frodo, so they may speak to the Ringbearer with a representative Fellowship member on hand.

It was now more than ever that he realized the grief hanging off the hobbit's shoulders as he climbed slowly after Legolas, his small face turning back every now and then as if he were expecting someone to follow until the leaves swallowed him and the rest sat and waited. The ranger had a deep feeling that Sam would have followed his master, invited or not he would have climbed beyond his usual environment of the ground into the strange world of the trees, staying by Frodo come troubles and high weather. It was the worst kind of loss.

His eyes travelled around the group and he realized Samson was missing. He looked to Boromir and the sad eyes regarded him before coming over and making a new place by his side.

"Are you well? You know of what I speak." Said Aragorn, shuffling over to make more room for the stocky man. 

"Yes, I suppose. I don't really know what I am feeling. I think it will take time." He sighed and Aragorn patted his back with comfort and reassurance.

"It will, the loss will affect us all greatly for a long time to come. But I worry about Samson, he has not spoken to me once since…they fell, I know he and Avon were like brothers, and little Sam was like his son. Not to mention the greater loss of Gandalf, the father of us all." Aragorn spoke quietly.

There was a moment of silence before the ranger sought to break the ice a bit.

"How did you meet Avon? Samson and he are supposedly like kin, but the differences between them in person are astounding, and also the difference in distance seeing Avon was in Ithilien, and Samson in Eriador."

Boromir sighed and shook his head, smiling softly at some memory he was dredging up from his mind. "Shortly after Osgiliath, a young man stumbled across our camp by possibly smelling the food and desiring warmth and comfort. I was injured from the battle and my brother was scouting the area when he came across this strange young man and…" he chuckled softly, making Aragorn smile in spite of himself. "Avon thought Faramir was attacking him and was just short of strangling my young and wild brother before he was knocked out by Halagir, brought back trussed up like a chicken and called a traitor. I was on watch that night and followed the strange one when he managed to escape from his bonds, it was then that I discovered his innocence and confusion, he had no idea where he was or how he had got there. It is almost like he had dropped out of the sky, even his speech was…" The smile's and chuckles had dropped and now the Gondor man was frowning, the memories becoming obviously painful. "We…I found out things about his past on our journeys which disturbed me greatly. His culture and ways of life were so different from what I have ever known that I doubt he was even from this world. Where can he have been from?" He questioned Aragorn and the ranger stared back dumbly. To speak the truth, he had never really considered the possibility that Avon and Samson were not from this world. It could explain much about the fact that even though the he found the boy in the wild, he had lived quite a sheltered life away from the hardships of general living and had no idea how he had come to be where he was. Saying he was poor without calloused hands from hardship also reinforced the fact he was hiding something.

"I do not know, my friend." He answered the man's last question. "But I could add to this mystery with a few facts of my own." He looked at Boromir and waited until the man nodded his head and let Aragorn continue. "I was patrolling the road Chetwood only a league south of Fornost with three other rangers and we practically stumbled across an Orc camp. The creatures had sneaked past our defences on the border and were heading towards the Hobbit land. The fight was short and fierce and when it was over, I thought that I would be done with surprises, but I was wrong. One of my men came up to me in quite a hurry, carrying something that looked like an Orc, but was really an injured and starved boy. Samson had been a prisoner of these foul beings and why they hadn't killed him will always remain a mystery to me. But I healed him, cleaned him up and tried to leave him at Bree when I went to meet Gandalf and the hobbits, but the boy was so stubborn and defiant that he managed to squirm his way into my plans and accompany us to Rivendell, where he met with your Avon and the mystery became greater."

"How great are these distances that two brothers can be torn apart, placed where they do not know and then be reunited by pure chance. I could have left Avon at Minas Tirith." Boromir pondered.

"And I Samson at Bree, the mystery is great." Aragorn leaned over his knees and let the silence continue until something else came to mind. "Have you seen Samson?"

"He is sitting in a branch above us, and I don't think he is letting himself grieve at all and it almost sends me to shame to cry so openly while he acts as stone, like our elf." Boromir sighed and lowered his head in deep grief.

Aragorn answered in a whisper. "It is not healthy though, I will try and speak with him tonight, I may have more luck." He looked up at the leaves, silent as his ears strained to listen to the far off voices above. Then one spoke sharply to a shadow sitting in a crook of the tree.

"What are you doing?" it said in elvish, directing the question at the shadow who sat still and silent. "Lower yourself from the place that you are not invited, it will do you good if you wish not to be on the end of an arrow." 

Aragorn frowned, these elves were far too suspicious, even if they had already been somewhat accepted.

"Oh shut up." He started as Samson answered partially in the same language and in Westron, the voice tired and strained. "If I can't sit in a tree anymore, I might as well just give up right now." He snapped and then there was silence, Aragorn smiling quietly to himself as the elf seemingly pondered over the fact that a man could understand him perfectly, and answer him with only a small problem with accentuation and timing. Aragorn's lessons had paid off. 

Then he heard a very slight rustle and smiled again, the elf was beginning to trust Samson and was now having a small conversation with him, the elvish sounding halted and short as it was mixed with the common speech. Maybe this was a good thing if the boy could trust someone, even if it wasn't one of the Fellowship.        

After a short while Legolas returned, telling them all of the plans that they would be staying here tonight, the hobbits in this tree while the rest slept in the talan of the next tree. Aragorn gathered most of their gear together and hid it under some leaves while sending Merry and Pippin up the ladder. They acted with a lighter attitude than would be thought normal, but for hobbits, he guessed that the real enormity of what had happened had not hit them yet. They would grieve heavily later on most likely.

He then waited, wondering whether to call Samson to tell him where they were going but thought against it, the elf he was still talking to would tell him what to do, he would just have to trust him.

When he awoke the next day, after collapsing into a deep a dreamless slumber only moments after climbing to the flet, he came face to face with a wide awake Samson who just lay there, staring back with those stony eyes.

"Good morning." Aragorn said, sitting up and shaking his head to get rid of the last bits of weariness. The boy just continued to stare until he blinked and turned over, facing the rest of the group of which only Boromir and Gimli were still asleep; Legolas was nowhere to be seen.

"He left last night, said he had to warn the rest of his people about the orcs. I liked him, he listened." Samson spoke quietly to no one in particular, just sitting up and getting his things together, not looking Aragorn in the eye until the man asked him a question.

"Who left, was it Legolas?"

The boy looked at him like he was mad. "Course not, Orophin, the one I was talking to last night, he had to go back and he said he'll see us when we get there, maybe. Legolas is just an early bird"

"Oh." Aragorn said, and their conversation ended. He didn't hear another word from his charge until later that morning when they reached the strong flowing stream of Celebrant, and the rope bridge was revealed.

"I'll show you." Said the boy, leaning over Pippin who looked scared stiff of using only a rope to cross something that could sweep him away in a second. Samson then put a foot on the rope, and ran. There were many gasps of surprise from both elves and mortals as he reached the other side at the same speed Haldir had done before them, he then turned around…and smiled.

"I'll never be able to do that again, that was the biggest fluke of my life." He continued to smile as Pippin tried to copy his movements and nearly fell headfirst into the water before he realized there was a higher rope to hold, and he held it tight. Then came Merry, followed closely by Frodo and then Aragorn, a rather clumsy Boromir, an even clumsier dwarf that looked worse as Legolas and Haldir (who had returned) ran lightly across in their graceful way. 

The argument that followed made both Aragorn and Samson groan simultaneously, if the elf and dwarf wished to create a war between their kind, this was the right way of going about it, even if it was a simple tiff over being blindfolded.

"If I am to be blinded then I must ask for our elf companion to have the same treatment." Gimli glowered at Haldir and Legolas seemed to snap.

"I am an elf and a kinsman here!" His face seemed to change into several different colours of red and he reached for one of his knives, Gimli doing the same with his axe and forcing the Galadhrim to raise their bows.

"Stop this! May I say a plague to the stubborn necks of both elves and dwarves." Aragorn stepped between the glaring, almost natural enemies and spoke quietly, telling Haldir that he may bind their eyes and he would be responsible for any injuries that may be the outcome of not being able to see. Legolas was purely incensed, as was Gimli.

"I shall claim full amends for every fall and stubbed toe, if you do not lead us well." Gimli grumbled as the cloth was wrapped about his eyes and Haldir assured him he would guide them all without any incident. Legolas crossed his arms and pouted like a child when Haldir did the same with him and Aragorn smiled, an elf's pride was not to be taken lightly. The man opted to be last and he watched each person be blindfolded calmly until Samson, when the boy panicked.

"It is ok," he said, putting an arm around him and trying to keep his head still as he ducked away from Haldir's outstretched arms.

"I don't like the dark." He whispered as Aragorn finally got him to stand still and the elf got the cloth around his head. Aragorn simply grabbed him in a comforting embrace, the ranger realised now just how much the tragedy of the mines had affected his young friend and he spoke words of reassurance as his own sight was removed, and they were led through the woods in darkness.

* * * *

Orophin shook his head at the slaughter; the bodies of many Orcs lining the fair glade where the short battle had been fought, the bodies of two elves were mingled with them but at least the hoard was completely eliminated. He knelt down and washed his hands and face in the small stream, the black blood running off his arms until he felt satisfied with his appearance.

"I shall return to Rúmil and Haldir on the Northern border, who will accompany me? I need haste as I fear more of these unclean beast will set foot in Lórien before long." He looked over the group of 30 or more elven soldiers and 5 stepped forward, the rest starting with the morbid clean up of the once fair glade and the honouring of the dead. Orophin acknowledged them with a nod and without another care for his weariness ran back towards his post, a good night's travel away.

They travelled fast and soon reached a scout post, the elves stationed there giving them more food supplies to take with them before they hurried on again, the darkness coming to an end as dawn approached and they reached the group of talan. Orophin smiled as Rúmil came down to meet them and the brothers embraced, more elves coming out of the shadows to greet them and he questioned his brother.

"Where is Haldir?"

"He escorted the strangers to Caras Galadhon nigh on 7 days ago, the day after you left. He then sent reinforcements but has not returned, I am supposing the Lord and Lady are keeping him occupied with other responsibilities." Rúmil said, smiling as they walked back to the ladder and climbed it easily high into the boughs of the tree. "More Orcs have crossed into the woods but their number is diminishing, I think they are gathering forces together elsewhere to launch an assault upon us. That, of course, is only an assumption, but it is still a possibility." They sat cross-legged on the platform and had a type of breakfast, containing only wafer bread and simple water. Orophin simply stayed silent and mused over the events that had occurred since they had met the strangers.

He wondered why no one else had found out, or even noticed one of their member was female, but she had such strength and stubbornness in her he figured she had kept it under wraps very well indeed. He simply knew it, from the moment she spoke to him after he confronted her in the tree, he knew of her secret, and they had spoken long into the night until the Orcs had come and he was forced to draw them away. He supposed this was a slight gift passed onto him from his grandsire, Angrod, brother of Lady Galadriel. The Lady had the gift of inner perception that was enhanced by her ring Nenya, to delve into many things normally kept hidden. This gift had seemingly been in Angrod too but had missed his sons and Orophin's own brothers but had not passed him over; the girl, Mel she liked to be called once she had known he knew, suggested it as a sixth sense. And now it was coming over him yet again.

"Rúmil," he whispered, motioning for him to follow as he stepped to the edge of the talan, "I sense movement to the west, near to Nimrodel. Do not ask me how." He added, seeing the strange look in his brother's face.

"Sometimes you unnerve me, brother." Said the other elf as they descended to the ground and called softly for three guards to accompany them on the scout to the stream that splashed merrily over the falls and continued to join the other river to the east.

They crept silently, Orophin's weariness totally evaporated as his senses honed in to the distinct sounds of feet scuffling through the undergrowth. But it did not sound like Orcs, nor did it sound like many.

They came to the stream and the five elves positioned themselves around it, Orophin himself hid in a tree and crouched on a branch, keeping his bow ready in case need came to shoot. After only a short while, he picked out a largish bulky shadow emerging past the trees to come next to the stream. As the sun lit up the area a little more, he realized it was not one, but two people, distinctly not Orcs, the shorter one was seemingly leading the very much taller one to the waters before they both collapsed next to it and drank deeply, not caring how bitter cold it was. The short one, who looked suspiciously like a child, then made the tall one lay on his back as he rummaged around in his pack for something, drawing out a pouch after a short while and a wooden mortar and pestle. Some withered leaves from the pouch were placed in the mortar and water from the stream was added to it. As he pounded the substance into a thin paste, he made the tall one hold out his left hand and some of the paste was applied to his wrist, resulting in a cry of pain and jerked movements before he settled down. The small healer then leaned forward and Orophin noticed for the first time that the tall one's eyes were bound tight, possibly why he had to be led by the hand in his blinded state. The short one unwrapped the cloth and washed the probable residue of another application of the paste from the tall one's face, he then applied some more of the new lot to the eyes, making him squirm and whimper again before it was bound with a new cloth. But the left foot made Orophin cringe as the "child" attended to that too, and the sound of screaming echoed throughout the woods as the injured one thrashed in pain. When it was over they both lay down, only to rest their bodies as they started to talk to one another softly.

Orophin had dismissed the probability of them being enemies, they spoke in the common tongue and from what he could pick out, they were lost and had been travelling for a long time, possibly without any food or water. He made a sign to the others as they had kept an eye on him for instructions, and they crept silently through the trees and bushes, making their way silently and cautiously towards the new strangers. The elf waited until they were almost on top of them and saw them up close for the first time. He gasped.

A halfling?

* * * *

Haldir checked on the Fellowship again, being their assigned overseer and guide he happily answered the hobbits' incessant questioning and joined them in their general chatter as the days flew by and helped the others with anything they may need. He had long ago gotten used to Samson's silence, the mood shifts of Boromir and Estel's need to keep busy, whether it be by cleaning his weapons over and over, or helping in the preparation of meals and discussions with the rest of the Galadhrim. But he could never stay close to the dwarf for long periods of time, his entrenched distrust of the people made it hard to break the racial barriers and he simply ignored him, which seemingly suited Gimli just fine. Legolas came to him often to ask for directions and query about the surrounding area, Haldir didn't think he had seen an elf looking so young and alive for a very long time, even if the grief was still obvious.

Today, he checked on them. Being a simple routine the two young hobbits looked up from their meal, possibly their second or third breakfast from what he had heard about their eating habits, and greeted him with bright smiles and food filled mouths. It was quite amusing but he had important business to attend to, he needed to find Aragorn, fast.

"Could you please tell me where Aragorn is? I must speak to him." He questioned the nearest one, Merry, and had to wait for a short while as he chewed quickly and swallowed the remainder of his food before answering.

"Strider? He's off on his wonderings again, I think he is over by the lake, washing his clothes…again." The hobbit groaned and rolled his eyes, the other one snickering into his bowl as the elf thanked them and hurried off, trying to keep his own laughter from bursting forth. He found himself wondering more than once about the cheery attitude of the hobbits, they had seen and experienced so much in such a short time and yet they were able to shake it off for the sake of a happy day. Even when they had lost one of their own. This thought forced him to become sober as he came upon a small curled up figure, the last hobbit and the bearer of the great evil. He was still fast asleep wrapped tight in his cloak and blanket and Haldir stopped for a moment, observing Frodo from a comfortable distance.

He had a permanent pained expression etched upon his face that not even the Lady could remove, it was the face of pure and utter grief of one who had seen and experienced more than they would ever wish to. This little one had not asked for this, he was now merely a pawn in a great game of good and evil, but a pawn that would determine the fate of both greatly. The burden should never had been placed upon him, and by what he could decipher from the dried tears on the pale cheeks, he placed himself to blame for the deaths of two close friends and the "brother" of another. It would be long till he healed, but hopefully the news he was to deliver to the man would help him faster than anything anyone here could do for him.

He left the halfling to his troubled dreams and made his way to Aragorn. He eventually came across the lake and saw the ranger bare to the waist as he scrubbed his shirt on the rocks on the bank.

"Aragorn, I have some important news." He called and the man straightened up, turning to face the elf as he approached.

"What is it?" He scratched his chin and smiled.

"Maybe you should sit down. This may be a shock to you." Haldir watched as the smile dropped from the man's face and he complied, sitting on the grassy bank.

"Why will this be a shock?"

"Then again, maybe I should show you. Simply telling you will not be enough."

Aragorn groaned and stood up again, grumbling as he retrieved another drying shirt from where it was hanging on a branch and slipped it on, following Haldir as he led him through the trees and to another part of the woody city. They came to a stop after a while and the elf pressed a finger to his lips, motioning for the man to be silent and bade him to look out from behind some bushes.

They saw Samson sitting in a tree like he normally did lately, but he was not easy to see with his dark travel stained clothing. Haldir made the man look up higher and after a small search, he spotted a grey figure creeping slowly through the higher branches towards Samson and a flash of golden hair revealed him to be an elf. Then without warning the figure dropped onto the branch in front of the boy and grabbed him round the waist, toppling them both to the ground and Aragorn leapt forward, his hands meeting empty air where his sword should have been. Haldir grabbed him back and shook his head vigorously, nodding for him to look before jumping to conclusions and the man regarded him quizzically before looking back on the scene.

The two figures were on the ground, scrabbling around before Samson did a very complicated move and the elf was pinned under him, in a definite lot of pain before a laugh rang out and the boy's voice sounded unusually high.

"Orophin! I would have thought you to be better than that. I got you in 10 seconds flat."

"Let us make it 4 out of 7 shall we?" A muffled voice sounded in a mixture of Westron and Elvish and Samson let go, helping the elf to his feet as he brushed off his clothes and rotated his shoulder. "I think you nearly broke it this time." He grimaced and Samson laughed again, his voice still strangely high, almost female.

"There is no 'nearly' in my book. If I wanted to, I could have broken it in three different placed with a simple flick of my wrist." He boasted a bit as he patted the elf's back and turned around, looking like he was ready to walk off.

Haldir knew that the man had not seen the boy laugh since he had first met them, but it was his brother's presence that brought out this unusual sound. He knew Aragorn was confused and he needed to show him why.

Orophin waited all of 1 second before he tackled Samson to the ground again from behind, this time successfully pinning him underneath him and grinning openly as the boy squirmed and glared up at him.

"Live and learn young Samson." Said the elf, keeping a firm grip on his arms before something unseen passed between them and Samson stopped struggling.

"My name is Mel." He whispered, almost indistinguishably to the two uninvited watchers. Haldir bade Aragorn to continue to watch closely as he understood what would happen in a moment. It had been following a pattern and what would follow would be very important for the man to observe.

Orophin let go of the shoulders and helped the young man to sit up. They both sat there in silence for a moment before Samson made an almost imperceptible movement of his head and his brother leant forward immediately, engulfing the young man in a solid and comforting embrace. Aragorn's jaw dropped as the distinct sounds of sobbing came to them in their hidden position, no doubt the man had never heard such a sound from his young charge and this was very astounding.

"Oh God I miss him so much!" Samson cried out and became a mess of tears and crying, Orophin rubbed his back soothingly and spoke quietly, though not too quiet for the watchers.

"He will always be with you. The memory will never leave your heart and you must treasure it, it is precious." The elf cooed and Samson raised his tearstained face from the folds of the other's clothing.

"I should have drugged him at the beginning of all this."

"And what would have that achieved?" Orophin smiled kindly and continued to rub the young one's back.

"His life." And he broke down once more, becoming almost inconsolable in his grief as he sobbed and wailed while the elf held him tight. But something followed that was not part of the pattern, in fact Haldir didn't think the man should even witness it until…too late.

Orophin tipped Samson's chin up with a crooked finger, the teary grey eyes meeting his blue ones for an instant before he drew the boy into a kiss, sweet and short. Haldir heard a small sound next to him and looked at the ranger, noticing that the man had snapped his mouth closed and was now watching the two with unconcealed confusion and curiosity. Not wishing to become a voyeur, Haldir drew the man away quietly and gave one last backward glance at his brother, smiling softly as he saw him draw the young one into another comforting embrace with maybe a little more intimacy than before.

There was silence between the man and elf for a while as they walked before Aragorn spoke, confusion lacing his voice thickly.

"Why…how…?

"My brother has a gift, Samson simply opened up to that gift and possibly the peace of our realm has destroyed the barriers he has held up against his feelings. Legolas has informed me much about the young one's mind, it is more complex than you would ever guess."

"But why didn't he tell me?" Aragorn pondered half to himself.

"Samson did not tell Legolas…Avon did. They were closer then you think, Estel." Haldir used his elvish name, hoping to elicit a response that was not another question. But it wouldn't be so and the man touched upon the delicate issue he was hoping to avoid, at least until they got to their destination.

"He has affections for your brother?" He looked even more confused as Haldir shook his head and led the man down a small path towards a huge tree in which, high above, a dwelling was built.

"Orophin arrived two days ago, he came with great haste and it seems now that a type of...attraction has been struck up between your servant and my brother. But HE gives affection to nobody."

"But…we just saw…" Aragorn was silenced by a look as they ascended the stairs into the tree, the silence stretching until they reached a door and Haldir stopped, leaning against the smooth wood and making no move to open it.

"HE feels for nobody," repeated, watching the frustration build on the man's features before continuing, "SHE does." He continued to watch as that rugged face went through a range of different emotions before something tweaked in his mind and his face dropped in realization.

"She?"

"Yes, she." Haldir put his hand on the latch of the door, still looking at the man as he scratched his head and sighed and muttered.

"How could I have missed it? How could she have hidden it for so long?"

"By bindings most likely and by keeping her voice low and huskier than normal?" Haldir offered, frowning at the man's response.

Aragorn sighed. "She will have to stay here of course, I cannot be responsible for a female in such times as this and she will merely be a burden."

"Is that so? From what I have heard, the hobbits would have been killed early in the piece and many fell things would have befallen the company had she not accompanied you. Was she not the one who opened Durin's doors?" Haldir regarded him coolly, he had been expecting this and now he waited for an answer to the obvious.

"But she is female." Aragorn argued.

"And that makes such a difference?"

"Well, I…" Aragorn's words stuck in his throat as the door opened and an angry face peered out.

"It makes no difference at all! She can do everything a man can, maybe even more, even if she is all alone and to the mercy of the world. Oh she is so weak isn't she? I've heard she beat a warrior elf twice in a row when he took her by surprise each time."

"Three times." Haldir corrected the person and he blinked.

"Three? Damn good."

"But he got her at last"

"Then she must like him…"

"A lot." Haldir finished and looked back at the ranger expectantly.

Aragorn was in shock, he simply stood stock still, staring in almost horror at the figure before the face turned to him again and the eyes blinked unseeingly, the milky whiteness covering the known deep brown beneath.

"Hi Stridey. I'm back." The figure said, before Aragorn promptly lost his legs and dropped to his knees, the last hour of surprises possibly hitting him harder then an enemy's cudgel. 

TBC

* * * *

You work it out. Am in a hurry so I'll leave it there. REVIEW!!!!!!! Please, am STILL hungry.


	12. Surviving and Revelations

YAY! Am back from Christmas holidays and am biting at the bit here. I was on a writing rampage for a while when my internet crashed the day before I got back from Germany, so I have been in agony from internet withdrawal symptoms. Anyway, I saw TTT with B'Elanna and her friend the first day in a LOTR marathon. I swear, I was in such a state of pure shock when I came out that neither of them could get me to shut up about it. It was all "Haldir…this and that" and "Why? WHY?" Then I would kick a wall in anger and swear. The fact is that, now this new thing PJ had popped into the film has totally screwed up my L/H story and will do so for many others from now on. For those who haven't read the book yet… READ IT!

Muse #3: Damn girl, calm down.

Muse #2: Yeah, he wasn't that important anyway and… withers under Vana's glare Umm, ok, maybe he was.

HM: According to Vana, he was on about the same level as Aragorn, him being just below Legolas of course.

Muse #4: Umm, yeah. Same level. is distracted by popcorn popping in the microwave

Vana: glares at #4 HEY! You remember what happened last time! You's guys have no connection with technology and this is just going to get nasty…do you hear me? NAS…

'PING' microwave goes off and muses vanish…like always

Vana: Oh for crying out…IT'S JUST A MICROWAVE!

Muse #4: from the Void Yeah, and it's evil. AND it has my popcorn and NO, #2 you are not getting one bit!

Muse #2: Awww

Vana groans and gives up, going back to her story for people who are still interested in it.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em I don't own 'em to the power of 10. You got it? Good

**Summery:** This part is rather slow as it focuses on mainly thoughts and memories. Not much action, but this thing kinda ran away with me and before I knew it, it was 17 pages long in '12 font Times New Roman'. This is actually another chapter split in two, this is the first bit and I'll give you the next one when I get a beta-er.

**Warning:** Pain, and nasty surprises for Avon about his health.

**CHAP 12: Surviving and Revelations**

It hurt so much, the world was still spinning and his skin burned all over, his insides didn't feel much better and he turned onto his side painfully, retching and bringing up everything in his stomach from the last two days at least.

"Mr Avon sir, you're awake. Oh I'm so glad you're awake!" A small voice by his ear, forced him to open his eyes and blink at the haziness surrounding his vision in the darkness.

"Sam?" he rasped, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth with thirst.

"Yes sir, I'm here. And we're alive I can assure you of that though I have to pinch myself continuously to know it to be true, it was quite a fall though and you're badly hurt. My fault of course." Sam muttered and Avon looked at him curiously.

"How is it your fault?" he swallowed and tried to get some moisture back into his mouth.

"I landed on you."

Avon croaked with laughter then winced, his chest hurt and he wondered if he had broken some ribs. "Where are we?" He asked, trying to sit up and feeling nauseous again as the world spun around.

"Well, we're underneath where the bridge was, on a type of ledge and there's a cave or tunnel behind us, but I didn't want to try and move you in case you got hurt more." Sam said as he pushed the man back down, Avon discovering a makeshift pillow had been put under his head. This hobbit was a regular little "housewife".

He stayed silent now, simply trying to get his thoughts together as he singled out where it hurt most. It zeroed in on his back finally, between his shoulder blades where he had the suspicion he had landed directly on that point first before the rest of him, followed by a none too light hobbit. As the sickness drifted off something tweaked in his mind and he turned his head to Sam in alarm.

"We're still in the mines?" he felt his heart sink as the curly head nodded and he frowned.

"I think the others got out but I'm not to sure, I have not been in the right mood to think much about it. You have been asleep for hours."

Avon's eyes had been closing but they shot open at this realization. "Hours?"

"Yes sir, and that's a long time to be without food I can say that. Tis a shame the big folk carried that sort of thing, they used all ours up nearly at the beginning of this trip and we were left with just old apples, now they're gone too. At least I've still got a little pipeweed and…oh, some of Strider's athelas." Sam whipped out a small pouch from the pack he had been rummaging around in.

Avon felt his nausea diminish but was still confused by the spreading blurriness surrounding his vision. It wasn't spreading noticeably, but if his thoughts drifted and he snapped back into focus after a while, he could see the whiteness like a fog encroaching a little bit more.

"I think I've got a bit, but Stridey didn't trust me with too much so…you can have it. I'm not hungry." Avon lifted himself up again; feeling around for his pack that he just knew Sam had put somewhere but flopped back again, much to his back's discomfort, the world tipping and twisting around in impossible arcs. He was feeling very sorry for himself now, life in the rough had taken more a toll on him than the continuous physical discomforts caused by his impossibly natural clutzy approach to life.

"You lost the pack, I think the strap snapped and I don't think it fell on the ledge with us." Sam murmured and Avon groaned, his thirst becoming worse with every passing minute.

"Water?" He croaked and sighed in relief when the hobbit nodded, bringing his own flask out before the man and helped him take a small sip just to wet his mouth and throat before it was taken away again.

"I may not know much about travelling and all, but I don't think we should use it all just yet. In case we don't…I mean, I don't know where, when…I…" Sam stammered, the fear becoming obvious in his voice and Avon finished for him.

"We may never get out."

Sam nodded a little shakily and Avon wondered where the light was coming from? It was just enough so he could decipher what was happening directly in front of him, but when he tried to look down the tunnel on his right, there was simply a black inky hole of nothingness. "Well, maybe we should find a way out ASAP?" Avon offered, trying to swallow the dread that was seeping into him quietly but surely.

Sam smiled and helped the man into an upright position, the dizziness and nausea gone and only the aches and pains left, especially now in his eyes, wrist and foot.

"Samson used that term a lot, 'a-s-a-p', especially when Mister Frodo was sick after he got stabbed by…" The hobbit bit his lip and Avon put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He tried to be brave for the sake of Sam, but the fear was becoming too great and he got to his knees to tried and stand up.

"Agh! Staff!" He dropped back to his knees and felt something cool and long placed into his hands, the staff becoming a great asset to his balance and previously unbearable pain through his leg. But he almost lost his balance again and nearly fell off the rather close edge when Sam caught his cloak and pulled him back, both of them falling against the wall next to the cave. "Let's not do that again?" Avon smiled grimly down at his sole companion and Sam patted his hand, beginning to lead him into the hole and into a darkness that was so complete, it was suffocating. He still wondered about how he could keep a grip on the pole when even unconscious, Mel's seemed almost as attached to him as his old one which still had a place tucked into his belt in two pieces. But these simple thoughts were driven out of his mind as his senses honed onto sound and feeling, any sight totally gone by the oppressive darkness and enclosing walls on all sides, top and bottom. Was it just him, or was the roof getting lower?

"Sam?" He gripped the small hand and felt a squeeze in reply.

"Yes Mister Avon?"

The man smiled a little. "Just call me Von, all my friends do."

"Ok." His voice was small.

"How far did you explore this place when I was out cold?"

"Much further than this, Mist…Von. It gets rather narrow further in, but there was quite a bit of fresh air coming through so I suppose it leads out nevertheless."

The man barely heard him after the word 'narrow', the fear of having something enclose him so completely nearly drove all sensible thought out of his mind and he shuddered, painful spasms rippling down his back from the sharp movements.

They had been walking, limping and crawling for what felt like hours when Avon finally couldn't take it anymore and flopped to the ground, his eyes tearing from the sting in them and from the pain everywhere else. His back was aching in sharp ways from the previous injury and continual stooping when the roof got considerably lower, and this also put pressure on his leg and VERY tender chest. He didn't know what a broken rib would feel like, but he was sure this was pretty close.

"Von! What is the matter?" Sam sounded extremely worried and Avon could feel the little hands searching him for his face, possibly to check his temperature. He smiled and took them lightly in his own, putting them back by the hobbit's sides with assurance.

"I need rest, I'm thinking you would need it too." There was silence for a moment before Avon heard a rustle of clothing and felt the hobbit drop down next to him, sighing as he lifted the pack from his back.

"If only we had some wood, I could light a nice little fire and we could see where we're going for once. If I stub my toe one more time I'll…" Sam muttered and Avon could hear him rummaging around in that huge pack of his, it was like a habit to do that whenever any of them had stopped for rest on the journey.

Being in the dark with no way of keeping himself occupied with visual distractions, Avon had spent a lot of time delving around in his own thoughts and many things had come to mind continuously. The rest of the Fellowship for one, he had no idea if they got out and away from the…balrog. That's what Legolas had called it shortly before they started to really run for their lives, when things started to get hazy. He always thought of Mel, he loved her like a sister and he had been praying that she had made it outside with the rest of them; hopefully all of them had survived. He couldn't bear to think that Frodo was dead, he'd just been hit over the head by falling debris caused by the cave troll, he was just unconscious, not dead, no one was dead. But he had been getting disturbing visions of some things that had happened just before he and Sam had fallen and they had been pressing on his mind for quite some time, he decided to ask Sam.

"Why did you leave Frodo?" Oh perfect, send him on the guilt trip why don't you. Avon thought to himself, though his own guilt was rising in him at the fact that if he had just kept on walking across that bridge, Sam would be with the others out in the bright sun, and safe.

Sam fidgeted. "I…don't rightly know. I mean, he was hurt, and you were hurt and I just…ran. Please, Von, don't ask me to explain, I'm feeling dreadfully torn right now as I don't know what has happened to Mister Frodo. I hope he is ok and I think I can trust Strider and all, but I don't know…really." He sounded anxious and tired, like he was completely confused and didn't really want to reveal what was going on in his head. Avon changed tactics, or so he hoped.

"Ok. What really happened, when we fell…I can't remember, much. You know, about Gandalf? He was behind me and, well, do you know?"

"You can't remember?" Sam sounded slightly surprised and he paused before continuing. "Well, you did hit your head pretty bad on the fall and I suppose it must have…" he drifted off and there was silence, it continued until Avon gave the hobbit a poke and he seemed to be startled out of something. "Oh! I'm sorry. I guess…I don't know how…Gandalf, he…he, I think he died."

The hobbit seemed lost, his voice has become a hoarse whisper and Avon could almost feel the world collapse around them both. Gandalf, the most powerful person he knew, was dead. He could remember it now, the flames coming and grabbing the wizard, pulling him down and over the edge. He could of saved him, he was so close. But no, he had to give in to weakness and pass out from…what? Avon blinked away a tear that was threatening to follow the others that had been dripping down his cheek silently, realizing only now that the sickness and burning in his wrist was not a result of the fall. He had felt so sick even before they had run to the bridge, was it because of the fight and the continuing adrenalin? Was it the blood, the fear and everything coming down to his strange acceptance of his own death? Was it the absence of the voices, especially Ken, which left a gaping hole in his consciousness that led for too many thoughts crowding his mind? He didn't know, but that unusual pain in his wrist, arm and eyes, also running along under his skin in slight pinpricks made him think harder about what had happened when he was fighting.

"Sam!" he said suddenly, making the hobbit jump a little as he was wrenched from his grief. Avon didn't stop. "You know I lost my pack right?" A small 'yes' and he continued. "Well, you've got a flint and stuff still coz I need light now, something to see with, you need to light something even if it's only for a minute." He was babbling, but he was becoming too panicky to even notice that he was scaring Sam slightly as he rummaged around in his pack and pulled out the stone and steel, clicking them against each other until he sighed and spoke.

"There, I've got a little fire going and I'm sorry about your cloak, had to tear a piece off there and…Avon? Von, what's wrong?"

The man was silent, he heard what Sam was saying but he couldn't understand it. If he had lit a fire, even a small one, he should be able to see it. He could smell it, but he couldn't for the life of him see where it was, maybe it was too small.

"Sam, are you sure it's big enough to see? Where is it?" He creased his eyebrows in concentration and felt something clench in his chest as Sam gasped. "What's wrong? Why can't I see it, Sam?"

"Von…I…" He felt some kind of breeze wash in front of his face and had the sinking feeling that the hobbit was waving his hand in front of him, testing to see if he could…

"Sam…please?" Avon panicked right there and then. The heat from the small flame could be felt near his leg but he couldn't see it, he couldn't see anything. "I'm not…please say I'm not…"

"Von, I can see your face. Your eyes, they're all white…you're blind." Sam whispered and Avon choked back a sob. This was almost his worst fear come true, that even though they had survived so far, he still would never see the sky or anything ever again. Mel's face would ever remain a memory as would his family's (though he felt he would never see them again anyway). He couldn't be blind, they would never get out if he were blind and he would live and die in darkness, sooner or later, it made no difference anymore.

They sat in silence for quite some time after that. How long, Avon never knew and he didn't even want to speak about anything anymore. But the silence was broken finally, not by a hobbit's voice or a man's complaints, but by something more sinister and deadly.

"Orcs." Avon whispered as the pounding feet and evil screeches echoed through the tunnel, sounding closer than they really were.

Sam shuddered. "I suppose this is it then, though I was hoping to go back to the Shire after this was all over, and be with Frodo to help him and all." He rambled quietly but Avon put his arm around him, pulling him close and wrapping his cloak about them both as they shivered with distinct fear. The hobbit's brave attempts were only for show, the Orcs would soon come and then it would be all over. It would all be over, forever.

But fate took a different direction this time round. Instead of becoming louder, the sounds of what seemed like hundreds of Orcs were moving away and becoming a bit distorted. They weren't coming to find them and a few words of "English" made their way to Avon's dark-sharpened ears.

"You stupid peoples…come get you now…nasty sun is gone…no rest…few of them, hundreds of us…outside…"

They got further away, but a tiny glimmer of hope lit up the man's heart at the word 'outside', but it was also kept dim at the knowledge of the numbers against his friends and practical family. Hundreds, no one except a full-blown army could stand against that.

He whispered. "Sam, can you tell where they're coming from?"

There was no answer for a short while and Avon guessed the hobbit knew exactly what he had on his mind, and the little one was not enjoying the prospects of the immediate future.

"About 200 meters ahead I think. But I can't really tell, it sounds all the same down here." Sam's shaky and reluctant voice sounded. Avon felt pretty guilty for what he was going to propose without much of a chance to do otherwise, there wouldn't be another choice anyway.

"We have to follow them, they're going outside and we can hear them or we'll never get out." Even now, the voices and trampling were becoming dimmer by the second; they needed to go, now. So he didn't wait for an answer, simply grabbed the hobbit under the armpits and popped him on his feet before scrabbling up himself and holding his staff tight in his right hand. He would have taken Sam's hand in his own, but his wrist was so swollen that it was restricting blood flow to his fingers. It was the reason why he had wanted to have a bit of light in the first place, if he could know exactly what that tiny injury from the 'Orc-Monster' looked like now, he could at least do something about it. But now they had to push all despair, tiredness, and the fact they hadn't eaten in ages and were only allowed to drink little sips every now and then, aside as they possibly followed a lost hope.

Avon, as they crept silently, found some words move into his mind and he couldn't help but say them aloud, albeit very softly. "Let's hunt some Orc."

He felt and heard Sam try to suppress a snort of laughter at the totally random comment, and even though he didn't know exactly where the words had come from, he had his suspicions.

Somewhere in his past, someone famous had uttered those words. Who was it? Why couldn't he remember it all? He knew full well that this had all been done before, the whole evolving story was supposed to be a fictitious tale that had been…made into a movie. That was it, it was a three-part movie and he couldn't remember a darn friggen thing except for haphazard visions and disjointed memories. At the beginning of the quest, he knew there had been an underlying reason why he had joined, and it had started with a type of concern for Boromir. When he had first met the man, he had known so much more, in fact he had felt it was all because of Mel's fascination with the subject that had landed him here and made 'roughing it' almost a way of life. His previous life, he now fully realized, was filled with cushioned comforts that everybody took for granted. The toil and battle-formed scars and calluses that had formed all over his body, had helped in toughening him up for this harsh environment, moulding him for an almost definite lengthy future right smack bang in the middle of "pure fiction". And now, being a helpless blind and hunger weakened man with a hobbit filled to the brim with innocence and uncertainties helping him walk, he wondered if the moulding was simply a waste of time if he were to die so soon. Death had become a reality the moment Boromir had accidentally stabbed him, and the reality had grown into a partial obsession when danger leapt at him basically every time he let his guards down. But there was something under his skin, telling him that if he were to just give up now and die, he would be drastically changing something that was meant to happen, something to do with Sam. He still only survived for the benefit of the small and vulnerable and he was still obsessed with his own mortality…as soon as Sam was safe, he would die. He didn't think he could stand living on being blind, crippled and a complete failure to everything he believed in, such as Mel's undying strength that he always wanted to take as an inspiration, even though it was destructive and was killing her from the inside out. If Mel was in the same position, he was sure she wouldn't be stuck in a narrow, black tunnel under the ground with no knowledge of where she was going or even if she would get out at all.

Avon shook his head slowly, trying to get the crowding thoughts out of his mind. The gap that Ken had left made too much room for images and thoughts to flood the space, making it hard for him to concentrate on anything apart from the thoughts themselves. He needed to focus on the here and now, but even as those screeching voices got closer and he felt a faint wash of fresh air cross his face from some off-branching tunnel somewhere, he couldn't help letting a long hidden alter-ego voice it's own ideas on the situation.

'Great, now you have a senile crippled blind man with no hope for life trying to lead a three foot, furry-footed man through endless tunnels right into the laps of the epitome of evil. Could there be anything more ironic?'

If Ken was bad, then this was worse. The silence needed to be broken, the Orcish voices were only going so far as he needed something to come out of his own mouth before his old "Friend" took over yet again. He had gone to therapy for that, it wasn't going to happen again…ever.

"Sam," he whispered, as they stopped for a moment and tried to take their bearings, "can you see anything yet?" It hurt to say that, not only physically from the lack of water and dust clogged lungs that were straining for a not-allowed cough, but emotionally as well. Another blow to his pride, he didn't know how much more he could take of having to rely on someone else for the simplest of things.

"A little now, Von." Sam whispered in return, his usually optimistic voice drenched in tiredness and strain from too much terror being piled up upon itself over the course of this dark little journey (little, hah). "I think there are torches in a passage further up, but it must be dark out as Orcs don't go outside during day time. I don't think so anyway…I hope not or we will never get away. Von, how are we going to get past them?" He voiced the unspoken problem that Avon had been hoping to avoid for ages.

"Sam, I don't have a clue." He leaned on the wall, listening hard for any reaction from the hobbit and feeling the pit of his stomach fall when he heard something else. Something like a miniature cave in, then a 'help', a harsh and guttural call for help by someone small only a short distance away. "Sam," he hissed, stumbling forward with his hand outstretched. "Sam, where are you?"

A soft voice called. "Down here, Von. I think I've just found the way out."

"Where's 'here'?" Avon still searched around, reverting to crawling on his hands and knees to find the lost hobbit.

"I fell into a passageway, it slopes down quite a bit though so you had better watch your…" He didn't have to say anymore. Avon's injured hand found the loose scree first and he slipped, tumbling headfirst down a rather steep passage. It was only a short distance and he came to a gentle halt at the bottom, almost immediately Sam's hands were checking him for injuries and he waved them off, trying to smile at the situation.

He waited for a short while before speaking first. "Where are we?"

Sam whispered. "Outside."

And for the first time in what felt like eternity, Avon smelt earth, grass and clean fresh air. The wind teasing his hair and the dirt relishing under his exploring fingers partially confused him, before he remembered what they were and couldn't help but let a giggle escape his throat.

"You thought you found a way out?" He grinned and Sam's shy voice came back to him.

"Well, I thought it might be a nice surprise and all, you know." He giggled softly when Avon's hands found his head and he gave the hair a thorough ruffle, trying to make sure his joy didn't go too overboard. But when he blinked and looked up at what he hoped was the sky, the joy was snuffed out by the realization that he may be outside, but he would never 'see' outside ever again. He also realized that the Orcs hadn't taken this path, they had gone out of one further ahead and would possibly have scouts to check all possible exits…and this was one of them.

"Sam, we gotta get out of here!" He hissed sharply, half from the fear of being heard by something, and half from the fact his voice was nearly gone from thirst. "They're coming soon and we need to be as far away as possible." He hoped he was convincing the hobbit and was more than happy when there were no complaints, just Sam dutifully helping the injured man up and letting him be used as a partial support for walking.

From what he could gather in his blinded state, Sam was leading him down a sloping incline that seemed to go on forever. He felt pain at every step like usual, but when he saw bright flashes accompanied by screaming agony in front of his eyes he had to stop. They had been travelling outside for only an hour or so by Sam's reckoning, but he couldn't go on, even it meant they would be spotted by the Orcs in such an open area without any trees. All the information he knew about the surrounding area had been derived from Sam's occasional word as he had been leading quietly.

"Von! Sir, what is wrong?"

Avon held his hands to his face and tried not to cry, the tears actually made it worse. "It…hurts." He hissed, dropping to his knees and scrabbling at his face, his nails leaving little rivulets of blood all over the skin in his agony. Sam used basically every bit of strength he possessed to pull his hands away and Avon almost screamed, punching anything in reach, unfortunately Sam's jaw was first and he let out a grunt before slapping Avon back. This shocked the man, and he forgot the pain for a moment as he held his cheek, frowning at Sam…he hoped.

"I would help you sir, but I can't if you start hitting me like that." Sam's no-nonsense tone forced Avon to just grit his teeth against the searing pain running trough his skull. What the hell had been in that poison, and why hadn't it just killed him straight out like the elf had said it would? He remembered how the Orcs he had simply wounded drop like flies only a couple of minutes later, the poison on his sword and spear having done it's work quickly and almost painlessly. Seemed a shame those creatures had been given such mercy, not like him, it wasn't fair. Maybe it was their blood mixed in with it when the 'monster Orc' had nicked him; it may have, by some absolutely ironic and purely illogical fluke, neutralised it to simply give him adverse effects of mere pain and "discomfort" instead of death. Right now he would have chosen death any day.

Sam had been sloshing something around while he thought deeply, trying to keep his mind off the pain that was slowly diminishing again. He noticed something about the connections between pain and what he felt afterwards, he always seemed to feel strangely light and insubstantial when the attacks had drifted away, this always wore off after a few minutes though and he had put it down to his body simply overreacting to the relief. But as this attack on his eyes was showing him, the light feeling was staying around and was a lot stronger than usual…maybe the poison would kill him, but it was doing so in a slow, agonising and absolutely undeserved way. He felt it was undeserved, but he might have done something in the past and this was his punishment…but he couldn't figure out what and he put it down to the amount times he had been hit over the head, it had given him memory loss.

"Von, I'm going to try something out. I don't know if it will work but we can only try, you don't look that good now and this is the only thing I could think of." Sam sounded a little nervous, but this didn't register in his brain until the hobbit made him lay back and something cool, wet and mushy touched his eyes. The pain was unbelievable, it was almost as though someone was digging at his eyes with red-hot pokers and he screamed finally, not caring anymore who heard them. But suddenly, it was gone, a blissful numbness spread around the area and he sighed with contentment.

"What the heck was that?" he spoke softly, relishing in the relief.

"I just experimented with the athelas," Sam said, patting more of the pasty substance onto his face, "and it's lucky I kept my mortar with me all this time or I wouldn't have been able to do it. Of course, I've used quite a bit of our water so we need to find a lake or stream or something soon or we will be in quite a spot of trouble. Do you need it anywhere else? Your wrist looks pretty painful and I'm still worried about that foot of yours; from memory, it didn't look pleasant and that was quite a while ago now. By the looks of things, it's about midnight; I saw the foot in the morning and for all we know that could have been days ago. But I know we can't stay awake for that long, but you were unconscious for a very long time, then there was the tunnel and now outside. It could have been nearly two days since we fell off the bridge and…"

"Sam," Avon interrupted, not in the mood for his ramblings at this point in time, "just put the stuff where it looks like I need it. I can't be bothered anymore." Usually he wouldn't be so harsh towards the hobbit, but that light, almost ethereal feeling was dying away and bringing him straight back to reality. Pain was always there, but those light feelings removed him from his emotional and mental pain, the type that keeps you thinking about the position you are in at that moment in time and how to improve upon it. It was painful due to the fact he had lost almost all hope and he didn't want to remember that they had to run, escape from those Orcs and find safety without food (and water if no substitute was found). Reality, he'd rather be dead.

Sam was quiet as he decided to bind Avon's eyes with some kind of cloth to keep the paste in place while they moved, he stayed quiet even when Avon complained a bit when he did the same with the swollen wrist and gently prodded his foot experimentally. He didn't feel much below his knee, so he didn't know the boot had been removed along with the soggy bandage and his foot was revealed to the air until he smelt it. It was musty smell, something that you would find in a cellar, or a wardrobe that hadn't been opened in ages with old clothes and banana skins inside. He didn't know whether to panic at this or to just face it, it took him maybe two seconds to decide that panicking had done nothing for him so far and to just accept things should be his motto from now on. So even as Sam gagged and nearly threw up at what he saw, Avon just sighed and spoke quietly.

"Do what you gotta do, I won't feel it."

Nothing happened for quite a while after this until a pleasant aroma replaced the mustiness and he knew that his foot was being taken care of. Then the pain came…again.

Screams echoed through the hills, reaching the ears of a small group of goblins scouting the foot of the mountain closest to the exit Sam and Avon had found. An order was shouted and the scouts followed the now silent screams, possibly hoping they might be able to scrounge up the remains of the animal that they thought they heard dying.

Sam looked sadly down at his companion; Avon had fallen unconscious after that treatment and partial operation he had performed on his foot, and had been out for about half an hour now. He shuddered at the memory and pulled his cloak closer about him, trying unsuccessfully not to let the images spring into his mind about what he had to do.

Von's foot had become so infected that it had almost began to rot, the skin around where he had lost the two toes had died and he was very lucky it had not spread to the others or he may never have been able to walk again. He remembered regretting not telling Von what he needed to do when he had lit that small fire, heating up his little cooking knife and…

He gulped, if Avon had known that the skin needed to be cut away and that athelas was the only thing to be used for pain, Sam would never have been able to get close enough to perform the small procedure. He remembered a similar thing happening back home, and he remembered the healer telling his mother about what needed to be done if Halfred wanted to keep his leg. It was horrible, but he watched anyway as his brother was put through the excruciating treatment. He could only imagine the pain but was glad he had been spying or he would never had known what to do in Avon's case, now he just had to hope that he wouldn't be strangled when…

Avon groaned, snapping Sam back to attention. The man's mouth moved a bit and finally some words were croaked out, making him smile in spite of himself.

"Next time, tell me what you're gonna do, or I won't hesitate to strangle you."

Avon leaned heavily on the staff, feeling a little light headed from passing out earlier on and the fact that his body was still in partial shock from the 'operation'. For some absolutely unbelievable reason, his foot was actually hurting less than before and he had gained feeling back in his leg down to the top of his ankle, where it finally went into a slow throb down to his toes. His eyes itched and his skin still tingled, but the swelling in his wrist had gone down considerably and his could flex his fingers again. Athelas was a Godsend.

Sam had been chatting gaily for quite some time now as he led the man to some unknown destination, talking about anything and everything that came to mind. It stopped Avon's mind from drifting and for that he was very thankful, things seemed to be looking up from the 'sanity' point of view and positive thoughts were making their way back into his mind. Pleasant memories of his family back home, his friends and their everyday antics, Mel's antics in particular and he nearly laughed at the few memories that decided to pop up in his head.

"What's so funny?" Sam had stopped talking about his own things and had probably noticed the smile that had found it's way onto the man's face. Avon chuckled.

"Just thinking, about things and stuff."

"Good memories?" He could almost hear the hobbit smile.

"Yeah, I'll tell you about them sometime. They're funny but I'm still missing home, so I'll keep them in my head till later when we share a cup of tea or something around a warm fireplace." He patted the hobbit's back and let the following silence continue, it was comfortable in it's own right and Sam knew just when to break it before it got too long.

"Do you miss your family?" he queried innocently.

Avon hesitated for a moment before nodding his head. "Yes, my mum especially. Don't know what she must be going through right now, for all she could know I have simply vanished off the face of the planet."

"Planet?"

"Middle Earth," he corrected himself, "never mind me, I'm still getting used to everything."

"Where did you come from?" The hobbit then queried. "Samson is always with Strider and I know you serve Boromir, but you both look as though you come from somewhere totally different. Like another world."

Avon stiffened at this question, Sam was oblivious to how close he was treading to the truth and he pondered over whether to reveal a few things to the hobbit. His almost childlike innocence was so deceiving as to what he really was, Sam was older than him, wiser and considerably more experienced in life than Avon could possibly accomplish at the same age. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if he told him, just a few things, nothing much, just enough to explain a few things then they could move on from there.

With that, Avon opened his mouth to answer with a perfect explanation of the relationship between himself and 'Samson', and more information as to where they came from. It was all ready to be said, but the trampling footsteps behind them made his blood freeze.

'Orcs' he mouthed, feeling his hand grabbed by the hobbit and squeezed tight in fear. 'Run', he mouthed again and before he knew what was happening, he and Sam were running as hard as his own injuries and the hobbit's stubby legs could manage. They were exhausted from lack of sleep, but there had been an unspoken agreement that they wouldn't rest until they got to the cover of trees and could hide in them. This had come from Sam's recollection of the forest of Lothlórien that Strider and Gandalf had talked about, from what he had heard it was to the southeast of the main gates out of Moria and that was more than likely where the rest of them had gone…if they had got out at all. The tunnel they had been crawling through had seemed to go in a straight line for most of the way, but the one he fell down went off to the left and had led out to some area far away from those main gates. At least Sam could read the stars and had been making a rough journey in that easterly direction before heading south, but by not being able to judge distances from an unknown point, they had no idea really where that forest was at all.

The sounds of their pursuers were coming closer, but Avon guessed them to be still pretty far off or they would have been spotted. There were a few trees about and some bushes, tons of rocks and boulders making it annoyingly difficult for him to navigate through, and about a thousand accidents just waiting to happen. Sam guided him as well as he could before Avon caught his foot and tripped, falling flat on his stomach and grazing his hands and chin.

"Von! You need to get up! They'll catch you." Sam's anxious voice accompanied the frantic pulling on his arms as the hobbit tried to wrench him to his feet again.

It was about now Avon realized just how selfless that small guy was. He could just keep on running for his own life and more than likely survive, instead he was risking everything to help a crippled blind man to have the same chance. The obsession with his own death that had been haunting him the last few days was suddenly unimportant, and all he wanted to do was help Sam in return and insure that his tries would not be in vain.

No longer would he give up so easily.

'..._Maybe he'd just lie here and hope they thought he was dead_…'

Never would he be so cynical about others helping him.

'..._Boromir was worried, but he went anyway, food was the most important thing right now and no arrow could stop that_…'

He would stop making fun of other views of life.

'..._Stupid sexist pig, he needed to grow up and see what women could really do. Elves would never grow up, he thought_…'

Maybe he could thank Sam later for this gift of appreciation of life.

'..._Death was just around the corner, all he needed was a good arrow and…it would all be over_…'

The memories of all the times he had treated absolutely everything with cynicism and lost hope came in a rush and this went to his muscles, giving him a new burst of energy and he now pulled Sam behind him as they ran faster than before. Somehow he was getting an extra sense of where to put his feet, almost like an unconscious sonar system. It was the strangest experience he had ever had and he only stopped when Sam gave a shout, the extra sensors totally missing the tree that he had nearly barrelled into.

"Tree!" He called, making Avon skid to a halt.

"Is it climbable?" He asked and Sam nodded while saying 'yes'…he nodded? Avon felt the bandage over his eyes to make sure it was still there. Yes he was still blind, so how the heck did he know that Sam had nodded when he couldn't even see it? He gave up trying to think about it and hoisted the hobbit into the air, standing precariously on his good foot while his other knee leaned against the bole of the tree for balance. When he knew Sam had a good grip and was now climbing (if very unsteadily) up the tall tree, he followed, now also wondering how he knew that the tree was tall.

He tucked the staff into the holder on his back and this made it easier to find a good grip. He mainly used his knees and the crook of his elbows to climb as his wrist and foot were starting to swell up once more, making the use of them rather precarious. Finally he got quite a fair way up and called to Sam softly.

"I need a really shiny saucepan."

"What?"

Avon would have laughed if they weren't in danger of losing their necks. "Give me one of your saucepans, we need something to get them off our track."

"But they're mine."

"I know that…just give me one and I'll get you a new one at Minas Tirith."

Sam was silent for a few seconds as he thought about it, before a distinctive rattle was heard and a nice big (possibly one of his best) saucepan was placed into his hand. Then he spoke to Sam again.

"Show me the direction we were travelling." He then felt his arm being moved in such a way that he was soon pointing somewhere horizontally. Ah, there was a perfect branch he could sit on and…how the freaken heck did he know that? Avon shook his head and simply crawled out onto the branch, steadying himself before drawing back the hand that held the saucepan and throwing it as hard and as far as he could. After Sam's astonished gasp and a few seconds of silence following, a distant clang could be heard and Avon knew the pan had served its purpose.

"Why did you do that?" Sam's accusing voice sounded as he came back to the rather comfy spot he had found the first time.

"Your clattering can be heard for miles, and I don't think they grow saucepans out here." He smiled as he leaned back against the tree, not waiting too long for Sam's response.

"It's a diversion!" He gasped, a smile lining his words. "They will follow my pan instead of us…very clever, Von."

Avon smiled back and clasped his hands behind his head, using his intertwined fingers as a type of pillow while trying to hide the anxiety of waiting for the Orcs to come. They were both silent now, listening hard to the approaching sounds of the rather loud group of creatures. Avon held his breath when they reached the tree and nearly had a panic attack when they stopped underneath them, too far down to catch what they were saying unless someone yelled an insult or something.

It was when they finally moved on and a shout was heard further up, something about a strange round thing of silver, that Avon finally started to breathe properly again. He didn't really know how the idea about the saucepan had come into his head and he pondered deeply. His confusion mounted as he started thinking about the other weird things that had been happening from the moment he changed his thinking patterns.

He was starting to see things in his mind; actual physical objects were seemingly being projected from the outside world into his head so he could see their shape and structure. He could even "see" exactly where Sam was, even if his face was a muddled blur…this was very weird and he was feeling a little more than frightened about it. Colours were non-existent though and for that he was slightly grateful, he would be terrified if he could "see" more than he could now.

"How far is the forest from here, Sam?" Avon pulled a thread from his now very tattered cloak and started playing around with it, twisting it around his fingers and pulling it free while he waited for an answer.

"Not far…I would say another day or two and we might make it."

"You can see it?" Avon looked up and saw the blur leaning over a branch, gripping another one in a death grip.

"Yes, it's really this huge sea of green…I've never seen something so big…" he sighed and pulled himself back, sitting uncomfortably on his own thick branch. "But we have only got enough water for one more athelas treatment before it's all gone, either that or you can't walk." Sam let the choice hang and Avon knew the priorities lay with keeping alive. But if he couldn't walk, he wouldn't be able to protect Sam and he himself would be left behind if the hobbit continued alone.

"We might be able to find a stream close…" Avon drifted off as Sam shook his head. He then noticed a sharp movement of the small head in his direction and he realized he had stopped talking due to something he really should not have seen. "…close by, we could get water there?" He hoped the recovery would pass and sighed inwardly when Sam put a hand on his knee, showing him that the hobbit had fallen for it and was now giving him the physical motion of 'no, there is no stream'. "Dammit." Avon growled, wrapping his cloak around him and cursing the day he was born, the day he boarded that plane, the day his life had changed, the mountain, cold and anything else that had put him up a tree with the two choices of 'get to destination and be thirsty' or 'don't get to destination and be thirsty'.

"I think we should use it on those injuries, Von, you need to be able to walk to get more water later on." Sam was already getting his mortar out again before Avon had a chance to stop him. Even after several minutes of arguing, Sam won and they waited until dawn before using the paste again. Orcs were never seen in sunlight, so they would never be able to react to the screams of agony that sounded through the air that morning, high above the ground.

Five days later, three longer than expected as Sam had misjudged the distance (Avon had muttered 'deceptio visûs' several times before 'pacifist' Sam had to finally punch him in the arm to shut up), they reached the edge of the woods and collapsed, too exhausted to take another step.

They had been without food for many days and water for not much less; there weren't even any berries or dew on the plants to suck on, it was almost like the land had abandoned them. Avon rasped and lay on his back; too weak to raise his arm to cushion his head…they needed sleep desperately.

The last time they had slept at all had been almost a day and a half ago, when they realized that more Orcs were coming and they needed to move as fast as was possible for a mortal. Avon may have had the disability of being blind and crippled, but Sam was suffering more than his small body could handle. Avon had told him that he would been better off had he never run after him that day on the bridge, but Sam had already had it firmly fixed in his head that the guilt of not trying would have stayed in his mind forever afterwards. The man had to concede to the hobbit's wishes to never speak of it again and it also made him realise just how lucky he really was, the poison would have killed him ages ago if Sam wasn't there.

"We need to go in." Avon breathed, he had lost his voice quite a while before.

Sam just put his hand on his knee, he couldn't even whisper and he always used this method of communication with the blind man now. Avon had lost that little ability of "seeing" things shortly after noon on the first day out of the tree, it was weird but he had derived some kind of explanation for the whole experience. He supposed it was the rush of adrenalin and the internal realization that he wanted to live combined to produce a type of extra sense, a sixth sense. It was a stupid and simplistic idea, but it was the only one his sluggish mind could come up with after the world had gone totally dark again.

They got up again and stumbled forward, Sam supporting and leading Avon again as they made their way slowly through the trees. If he could have seen it, he was sure that the beautiful scents and the smooth touch of the wood would have been enhanced ten-fold…if he could see it just once, for a few seconds. But now they just went forward, not really known where they were going for quite some time until they heard a sound that was almost alien.

Avon whispered. "Water." And with that they "hurried" towards the sound before Avon dropped to his knees, bringing up a handful of water first before the man dunked his head straight in, gasping at the coldness before drinking greedily and nearly throwing up from it. He heard Sam doing the same and for a few minutes it was all they could do, even though he knew they could get incredibly sick after not drinking for so long. Finally Avon gasped and sat up, coughing a bit and revelling in the fact his throat was clear and if he tried now, he could probably speak as good as the next person.

"Sam, are you ok?" he rasped…ok, maybe not as good just yet, his body needed more time catch up.

"Yes, and you're getting another treatment." The hobbit's voice was also scratchy but Avon didn't argue as he was made to lie on his back, listening to Sam putter around until his wrist was unwrapped and the new paste was put on. It stung a bit, but not as badly as before, the swelling was pretty big because it hadn't been cleaned for several days but that was about it, he was nearly cured of that one ailment…only blindness to go followed by a lot of time and rest.

The eyes stung a lot more but it was the foot that made him scream again. He dreaded the pain, but he always knew that afterwards it felt ten times better than before, when the swelling was down and the whole area was cleaned.

"That wasn't so bad." He gritted his teeth and Sam laughed softly.

"I think you would make a fine cockerel for the mornings, even the dead would awake."

Avon mock-frowned. "That's not very nice."

"Ah but it is," Sam lay down by his head, "we, in the Shire, value our animals like our family."

"I would do anything for chicken right now." Perfect Avon, now you're going to start drooling.

"Or lamb?" Sam offered and Avon held his stomach, feeling the well known gnaw of hunger that had made it's place in his gut for so long. He almost forgot what food tasted like.

He changed the subject. "Do you suppose they're in here…somewhere?"

"I do hope so, I miss the others terribly."

"I miss M…er…Samson too." Avon stuttered and Sam laughed again.

"Just call her Mel, Avon."

The man was shocked, what had he just said? "Sam? What…"

"It's no use keeping it from you," Sam patted his shoulder, "we hobbits have known for quite some time about the disguise. I swear only Gimli, Boromir, Strider, Legolas and…Gandalf are, were…erm, are in the dark." Sam choked a bit on the wizard's name; the memories still fresh and the grief still very close.

"Um, Sam," it was Avon's turn to pat the hobbit's shoulder, "Legolas knows."

"He does? I wonder who else could know? She has kept it hidden pretty well and it was only Pippin's spying that…"

"Pippin?" Avon growled and Sam gulped.

"He just wanted to see the tattoo!"

Avon groaned and put a hand up to his face. "Who else can possibly know?"

"I, for one." A strange slow voice spoke from almost right above them and Avon gave a yell, jumping up and grabbing his spear from the ground in reflex, standing in a defence position that was almost automatic until he dropped to his knees and promptly threw up. He had drank too fast, and that fright had got his nerves, jumping like a 'jack in the box' until his body simply couldn't handle it anymore and rebelled.

"Please, calm." The person knelt over Avon and placed his hand on his back and almost straight away, he wasn't sick anymore. The man swallowed and looked up, trying to pinpoint exactly whom this voice belonged to when Sam piped up.

"They're elves." He whispered in awe and Avon put his hand out, trying to make it real, trying to hope that they had a real chance at surviving now.

"Mel." The voice said and Avon choked on his sobs of relief, this elf knew Mel and that meant the others must be safe as well. They were all safe.

"Please, we gotta go there. I need to find Mel, where is…she?" his hand came in contact with the elf's face and he could feel a small smile come up under his fingers.

"I Orophin, to Mel take you." He couldn't speak the language too well but at least he was trying and he helped Avon up, going as far as brushing off the forest floor debris and guiding him to drink more water to get rid of the vile taste left in his mouth.

Avon couldn't speak anymore as he and Sam were guided through the forest, coming to those talan things and him being hoisted up into them while Sam had to climb. He knew it was early morning, but that didn't stop him falling into a deep sleep after they gave him some small cakes to eat…his first bit of food in just over a week. If he had known this at the time, he may have been stunned into absolute stupor.

TBC

A/N: This was my most favourite chapter yet. I couldn't stop writing it and I'm hoping some people can see why. It was like a light bulb switched on and I suddenly stopped writing so…well, bad, before I could never think I could fill pages and pages with just thoughts. But now I can and it actually went smoother than I hoped. This is MY favourite chapter, doesn't have to be anyone else's. This was a personal breakthrough and all so I'm happy with it.

Thanks to SailorGurl, Anita, Taraeldaiel, Hoshi and darkfeather22. You's guys really don't know what your reviews do for me! I will treasure them forever. (btw, long reviews are great too winks)

REVIEW! The more the merrier. I need popcorn for my muses and to get that, I need reviews to do it.

PS: I got a really funky flame from luna fox in 'I Am No Elf', for some nutty reason it actually made me proud. If this person ever reads this I have to tell them this- I am NO Legolas Basher, if anyone could read the hidden messages, he actually grew up from the incident and became the Legolas we all know and love. Anyway, see you later all.

Ta Ta


	13. We Have Returned

Didn't get a beterer, so I stopped stalling and got this up and down for you all. I've taken my time, haven't I? I know, I'm stupid, but mister Plot Bunny bit me THREE times in one week and now I am actually physically sick from late nights and serious lack of sleep. They say you actually become intoxicated when you don't sleep at least four hours a night, this must mean I am full blown drunk as I haven't slept AT ALL for a whole week. Sorry, I am going to the doctors to get a prescription for sleeping pills as this insomnia has gone haywire, it used to just stop me from having a sound sleep, now it stops it completely. Anyway, I want anyone who reads this to go check out my other stories too, I am in need for inspiration for 'Pippin the Fruit' and 'A Haunting Muse' (the latter one I am desiring to continue, but my spirit muses are stuffing around and won't give me a breather). I am also under extreme pressure to write my first ever crossover and ANOTHER crossover that I'm doing with a good friend of mine. Never mind the fact I have a short story to finish, a 'elf in our world' fic to round up, a 'lonely person comes to Middle Earth and tries to mingle (after lotr)' story which is going NOWHERE, 'Orlando Bloom and Elijah argue' RP fic which is harder than I thought, half a dozen poems and a terribly angsty and character death fic that I'm still trying to figure out where the freaken heck it came from and where it going. *breathes*. Onwards…to the story.

**Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't be here, I wouldn't even be anonymous...I would be Tolkien. So there. But I own Lot, you can't take him away from me *pokes tongue out* **

**Summery: Continuation from last chapter and goes along a bit faster. It may seem like this is simply speeding through but to put all that I really want to put in this (the beauty of Caras Galadhon and The Lady) would take far too much time and would sound rather like endless poetry, I love the elves. A touch of romance in here and Avon begins to take a role as a "big brother" (he is younger than Mel). We find out Mel's real name, here's to those who guessed something else.**

* * * *

CHAP 13 (cont. from 12)

As it was, he was too tired to care, as was Sam. They slept for nearly two days straight before they were taken to the next river, both literally carried over by an elf each (even though they both protested the whole way) on the rope-bridge and taken to Caras Galadhon. It was there that the shock of everything finally got to poor Sam; he passed out in front of the Lady and had to be taken to a chamber somewhere to sleep it off.

***"Cate Blanchet, you ninny!"*** 

He could hear Mel's voice running around in his head here and he "looked" around, she was so close, yet so far. She could never see him like this, these elves had to help him in some way; it was their poison after all.

"I need…"

"My help?" Galadriel smiled down at him and he gaped, wondering how he could see her face when everything else was completely black. "Do not trouble yourself so, I will help you as I may. There is no worry." She smiled again and Avon blushed a deep red, she was something else.

She chuckled softly then he felt something tug at his mind before her voice was there, inside his head just like Ken's used to be, only this one was less invasive and it would leave when he asked it to. //I see you have caught something of me, the same as Gimli the Dwarf did when I first spoke to him//.

"C…caught?" he stammered and a snicker could be heard from the archway. He didn't know who it was but for some reason, and somehow, Galadriel knew what he wanted to know and told him directly.

"Orophin is very curious about you, it is rare that strangers come to our realm…especially female ones of the race of men." She spoke slowly and precisely out loud, not in his mind as though to include the elf in question. Avon had stopped being surprised about how many people knew the truth about Mel after Orophin had informed him of her well being (as best he could in half Elvish and Westron), but a nervous cough from that elf caught his attention more than anything else had.

//He has never met anyone like Melinda, she is a curiosity for him and he is intrigued//.

Avon frowned, who was Melinda? When Galadriel's smile grew a little wider a sudden realization came over him…Melinda was Mel. He had never in the many years they had known each other, called her by her real name, and he had almost forgotten what it was. It made his face go even redder and the snicker was heard again. Even though Orophin had helped him and Sam before and he owed him and his brother a lot, he was beginning to dislike him considerably.  

Galadriel and that other elf were making Mel out to be like a science experiment, to be studied with caution and with plenty of reservation. It wasn't putting him on good terms with either of them and she sensed it.

"Do understand that you are both unusual to us, and that we are merely curious. If you were willing, would you open your heart to me in that I may be able to better understand you? The visions I see are both confusing and abnormally bewildering and young Melinda has yet to drop her barriers for me to understand, and possibly heal her." Galadriel's voice was soothing and Avon heard a gasp from the arch, then the room felt empty, like something had simply disappeared in a puff of wind.

Galadriel read his thoughts again. "He is going to seek out your friend, he did not know of her barriers."

"Shit! You have to stop him!" Avon was petrified, if Mel thought he was dead and was suddenly told out of the blue that he wasn't, it could psyche her out completely and probably drive her over the edge. He saw the Lady's pale face go a shade paler before she moved her head a little, and two previously unnoticed elves came into his vision slightly before they vanished in silence, the same as Orophin. All elves were far too quiet; he had learned this the hard way from Legolas.

Avon felt so sick, he hadn't really contemplated what coming back could do to his friends, and being blind was certainly not the way he wanted to greet them when he did see them again.

"You have to fix me, make me see again or something. Or just get rid of the whiteness, I can't stand it if Mel sees me like this, I can't let her." He pleaded, not even attempting to answer her previous question.

"You do realise," she drawled softly, "that once they find out you are here, they will wish to see you immediately?"

"Then don't tell them, don't tell them about Sam either. Drug him or something to keep him away, I don't care. Mel will literally go crazy if she sees me like this, I'm a freak." He tore off the bandages, giving her a full view of his eyes and the whiteness Sam had described to him in detail. She simply smiled again.

"We will do what we can." And with that, her face disappeared, leaving him in darkness again as he was led away by a couple of other elves to what he could only describe as heaven and hell in one place.

Hell was the pain he went through as herbs and other healing ointments were put on his foot and eyes, making him black out more than once. He always wondered about the screams he emitted, even when biting on a stick and smothering his face with a pillow…did the others hear it? Heaven came when it was all over for the day and his body felt light and insubstantial once more, the drinks they gave him to flush out the rest of the poison enhanced this effect and he felt like he'd just guzzled four litres of cola in 10 minutes flat. He was seeing elves…in a non-literal sense of course…but little lights danced around his vision and reminded him of that time he and Mel had done just that, drank four litres of cola each and then lay on the floor staring at the ceiling for a good hour afterwards.

He knew that Sam was biting at the bit now to see his friends once more, but he stayed behind for Avon's sake and he deserved a medal for that. He seemed to know that if he suddenly showed up, without Avon, there would be too much trauma in the group seeing as the man did not wish to be seen.

Another elf called Haldir came to check on him often and get him brushed up on the news of his friends, especially Mel. And he found out quite a few amusing things, such as the fact she was falling in love. It wasn't said outright, but from the information he was getting it was kinda obvious and that other elf just wasn't learning his lesson to keep away from the one girl who was battering him. Twice now by his count. 

Two days passed like this until one morning he saw something…seriously. It excited him when he could see shapes and shadows behind a white film that replaced the darkness and he turned his head when a shadow walked into the room.

"Ah, you have awakened, and eaten…and you can see me." Haldir voiced with slight amusement, clapping him on the shoulder heartily. Avon knew that by simply turning to look at him, when the usual stealth of the elf prevented that, was an obvious giveaway to his recovery.

"Yeah, only a bit though." He smiled a little and started pacing the room like he did all the time, trying to get used to walking without the staff, which rightfully belonged to Mel. He wore loose white shirts and leggings all the time now with a flowing white robe covering them to drag along the ground behind. He was tall, but still not as tall as the 6 to 7 foot elves and all clothes were too lengthy for him.

"I have come to give you your daily requirement of news, though it is much the same as before." He waited until Avon nodded, continuing his pacing and trying not to limp too much. "Sam is hiding away in his rooms awaiting your recovery as usual, Aragorn is nowhere to be seen, I doubt Pippin and Merry have stopped eating since they got here, Boromir has been playing a strange game with the dwarf called 'Snap' with little cards that he says you made and they are both making a dreadful racket with it." Avon laughed at this and Haldir continued. "Frodo has not yet awakened, Legolas too is MIA…" Avon groaned a little, Boromir had been teaching slang again. "And Samson is…well…"

"Hiding again?" the man stopped pacing and stared at the elf, a frown on his face.

"Yes, she…"

"Ah crap!" Avon slapped his forehead, sitting hard on the bed in exasperation. "Exactly how many people know who the hell she is?"

"Only a few, it is only because Orophin is my brother that he confided in me just recently. Though a female should not rightly be on this quest, she has been quite an asset and I do hope that the men can see that…and the dwarf of course."

Avon groaned. "His name's Gimli."

"He is but a dwarf in my eyes, and…"

"'Dwarves are not to be trusted'…yes I know all that." Avon finished the speech he had heard so often from these elves and sighed. He then rubbed his head and, checking his vision a little more by waving his hand in front of his eyes, spoke quietly. "Can you tell Stridey?"

"Pardon?"

"About me, can you just tell him and no one else? I don't think the others would react well if I didn't have singular back-up, namely Stridey, protecting me from various swords, arrows, axes, spears and any number of fists." Avon looked at him hopefully and smiled when he nodded.

"I shall do that, I do think you will fully recover soon and then you may join the others. Samson…Mel, is not faring well, she cries only in the presence of one other and the grief is heavy on her shoulders." He sighed.

Avon was startled. "She cries?"

"Yes," Haldir halted, and then sounded confused, "is this not normal?"

"Not for her, she never cries…" he drifted off, wondering about it all in the back of his mind.

He never noticed Haldir leave until he was long gone and he proceeded in pacing again, wincing more and more frequently as time wore on until he heard voices just outside his door. He grinned when he recognised them as Aragorn's and Haldir's, but the grin was wiped quickly away when he caught the things that man was saying about the "inadequacy" of females and the "hindrance" they can cause. He kept his anger in check for only a few seconds before storming to the door and wrenching it open, confronting Aragorn head on and making him collapse on the ground in shock.

"I was hoping for a more subtle approach, Avon." Haldir coolly spoke, not paying too much attention to the stunned man at his feet.

"Well, he was asking for it." Sighed Avon, trying to focus fully on the shadow on the ground. "Are you ok, Stridey?"

"I…I…" The man gulped and from what he could see, Aragorn was looking much like Mel did when he asked her out the first time…totally disbelieving and stunned stupid.

"Stridey? Aragorn?" Avon tried again and suddenly the man found his tongue, and his legs, and most definitely his strength as the younger man found himself being gripped in a hug so tight he could feel the bruises on his ribs flare up in agony once more. "Guh! Stri…dey." He gasped and the man let go, as if he was just aware that Avon was still injured and in need to be kept intact.

"By what miracle has brought you back to us? What has happened to you? Is Sam with you too and what of Gandalf? Does this mean that he too is still alive? And…"

"Stridey, shut up for a minute." Normally Avon would never have told the man to 'shut up', but he definitely was not going to obey any other command other than that one right now. "We fell on a ledge. I got poisoned. Sam is in another room somewhere and Gandalf…is gone." Avon dropped his head, sorry that he couldn't give better news. But he was shocked when Aragorn grabbed his shoulders before drawing him in for another, less painful embrace which Avon reciprocated, both with quite a show of emotion at his survival.

"Tell me everything." Aragorn ordered, drawing up a chair and making Avon sit on the bed. 

What Avon really wanted to talk about was Mel's sudden dismissal from his trust and faith, but he had to feed the man's curiosity first with a full account of what happened. He reviewed it all with some trepidation. It was only now starting to hit him just how close to death he had really come, and it scared him witless. Had he really been that ready to give up? To lose all hope and just let his life go as if it meant nothing? What the hell had been going through his head to want to let his entire life go to waste and give up on any hope of more life to come? He still wanted to maybe get married one day, have kids and be able to at least leave a little bit of himself behind, no matter which world it was in. There was still so much to do and no matter how terrifying the immediate future may be, he still wanted to live out as much of it as possible before the thing he now dreaded would come true; that he would soon be looking down at a sword or arrow poking out from between his ribs…and be unable to do a darn thing about it.

"We fell onto a ledge, Aragorn…" Avon started the recount with the man's real name to make sure he had his undivided attention, not that he didn't anyway. Aragorn was locked in a position of leaning forward with his chin leaning on intertwined fingers, a look of pure concentration creasing his face as he soaked in every word. When Avon got the part of finding an outside route, the man jolted in surprise.

"You mean to say, that there is more than one exit out of that place?" he looked in disbelief as Avon nodded.

"Haldir said that the Orcs might have made more tunnels through the years, just for the hell of it probably."

"Or to make it harder for us to track them," Aragorn mused, waving his hand a little, "please, continue."

Avon tried not to go into too much detail about his injuries, but when the other man gave him a piercing look, he spilled it all right up to the very moment he opened the door to Aragorn and nearly got crushed in his arms. At the addition of the bit of humour, they both laughed a little before Avon stopped abruptly and glared at the ranger.

"So, you think she's weak?"

Aragorn gaped at the sudden change before nodding grimly. "War is no place for a woman."

Avon glared even harder. "Let me tell you about women!"

The day continued until night came. But in the eternally light city of the Galadhrim it made no difference as the two men argued well into the night, until one of them won…with much satisfaction.

* * * *

The sun was so bright, he put his hand to his eyes and tried to dim the glare a bit with them. But after being in darkness for so long it made absolutely no difference what he did, it was still too bright.

"I'll do anything for sunglasses." Avon groaned and Sam smiled in amusement.

"Do you mean those little black things that sit on your nose? They never did look very comfortable."

Avon uncovered his eyes and simply stared at the hobbit. "How do you know about that?"

Sam continued smiling. "Mel used to have them until they were crushed, that was in Midgewater Marshes when Merry fell and she tripped over him. She didn't stop complaining for so long it was almost a relief when Strider, well, he sort of asked her to scout some bits up ahead and…" He snickered, "she had to wash for a whole hour after we got out, the bog was rather smelly when you sank in deep enough."

The man joined in with the soft laughter and whispered to himself. "Mel never told me that."

"Ah! You are ready to meet your comrades of course?" Lot waved to them as he climbed the stairs, just about as effortlessly as he did everything else. Avon smiled nervously and nodded, giving Sam's hand a good squeeze while the hobbit did the same in return, his hands so sweaty with nerves that it was almost like holding a sponge. The elf noticed and grinned, he had a lot more sense of fun and humour than most of the other elves and Avon was almost glad he had been the one to replace Haldir when he had been sent back to the borders…if it weren't for the fact that when he got talking, he never shut up. "Let us go then, they are all wondering why they have been summoned together at noon, when normally they would be left to their own devices throughout the day. I must say though, that the two young halflings have been quite amusing today, they complained much about missing their meals…how they could have more than one meal in less than an hour is beyond me."

"And what about Mister Frodo?" Sam demanded. Avon knew why the hobbit was getting so worked up about it. They had only been giving him vague answers to his questions about his friend for all the time he had been here, it was time they gave him something to work with.

"Just tell him, Lot. What's wrong with Frodo?" Avon tried to make himself look serious and intimidating, but the annoying twitch he now possessed in his right eye ruined this effect and the elf only smiled sadly.

"He is as well as to be expected."

"No! Tell us straight out. What's wrong with him?" Avon gave another firm squeeze to the hand and Sam looked up at him in thanks.

Lot sighed. "Very well," he paused as if to choose his words carefully. "He has not been well. I do know this is not how he has been for the journey before the mines, the evil weighs on him more heavily and he tires quickly under the strain. He sleeps for hours into the day, only waking for a small meal before sleeping once more. We have been worried for him, the Lady has tried to see into his mind and, though we never know what she sees, she is deeply troubled by it. He is ill, and it is an illness that no abilities we here possess can heal it. The last hope lies within you two, for we all feel that most of the illness is caused by deep guilt…for what, you already know." He looked between the two friends, both pale at the new information and Sam becoming paler by the second.

"We have to go him then. We didn't die, it wasn't his fault!" the hobbit cried, pushing against the man to get moving down the stairs and back to where he belonged, next to his master.

"Wait! What about Samson?" Avon needed a little more info before they went charging down and disrupting everyone's heartbeats in a second flat.

Lot smiled slightly. "She is fine. She has found life where none existed before, it thunders in her veins and also in another of our own. Grief is still heavy upon her, but she is fine." He didn't miss the rolling of Avon's eyes and the slight smile that accompanied it.

"How many know?" He asked, even though he felt he already knew. If she was in love, and another elf was feeling the same, he doubted that anyone that was an elf could miss it.

"Nearly everyone, excepting the man of Gondor and the Dwarf."

Avon groaned. "Lets go and give them all a heart-attack." He looked down at Sam and the hobbit nodded, biting his bottom lip as they walked slowly down the stairs and touched the ground for the first time in ages.

"They are through here." Lot (which was certainly not his real name, Avon found it too hard to pronounce) led them through an archway of stone and came to an open pavilion, which was partially hidden by vines and bushes. "They are inside. Do you need me to accompany you?"

The hobbit and man shook their heads and Lot bowed, standing back and waiting. Avon took a deep breath and started walking slowly, Sam right next to him as they came close enough to hear the chatter of their friends as they waited for something.

"It's not right, to leave us sitting here when I know there is a full roast going on."

"Hush Pippin, I'd say it's something big if they got us all together. Even Legolas is here."

"Yes. But I also do not know why we are here though. They informed me of nothing."

"Humph, stupid elf. Don't you know anything?"

"I know more than most dwarves."

"Only because you are older than our mountains."

There was slight laughter.

"He can't be older than a mountain, they take hundreds of thousands of years to create and…"

"Samson, you are taking things far too literal."

Mel growled threateningly at Boromir's comment, Avon assumed she had gained quite a temper since the mines.

Suddenly there was an urgent shout, sounding like one of the hobbits. "Hey…Frodo. Wake up, don't fall asleep just yet. There may be a big sur…" It was this final factor, of Frodo's sickness coming to light, which made Sam pull the man with him out into the full view of their friends.

When Avon looked back, he always wondered why he didn't just jump out and yell BOO. It would have produced the same effect anyway, and at least he would have been able to release some of his own nerves at that instant as well.

Everyone, except Aragorn, nearly leapt out of their skins when Sam and Avon stepped out from behind a pillar and revealed themselves to the group. Merry and Pippin gave a screech and gripped each other; probably thinking they were seeing ghosts. Gimli and Legolas had been in the middle of a thumb war (that Mel and Avon had introduced to the group) and were now cutting off each other's circulation in their hands, staring at them with wide and frightened eyes. Aragorn smiled softly as he held the two young hobbits' shoulders in reassurance. But it was the sounds of loud thumps that snapped everyone out of their stupor and they all looked down. Mel, Boromir and Frodo were sprawled out on the ground in a dead faint, their faces devoid of any colour.

Sam yelled and ran to Frodo, dropping next to his head as he spoke softly to his master and Avon walked unsteadily to where his two best friends lay, not really knowing what to do.

"Mel? Boro?" He barely noticed the others edging away from him as he knelt between them and gently shook both their shoulders. "Guys?"

Finally Mel's eyelids gave a flutter and she opened them, the greyness having turned to an icy green with emotion as she stared straight at him. Avon smiled and pushed a strand of rogue hair from her forehead before something changed in those eyes and he froze.

"You BASTERED!" She screamed, knocking him flat on his back and forcing him to shield himself from the rains of slaps and blows she was landing on him. They were rather weak though and he quickly grabbed her wrists, looking deep into her eyes, which were tearing up. "Son of a Bitch." She whispered and Avon blinked, he wasn't used to hearing swear words of any kind come out of her mouth and he let go, pushing himself up instead and grabbing her in a tight hug. She resisted for all of a second before collapsing into his arms and turning into a sobbing mass of jelly.

"It's ok. I'm here, it's ok." He soothed for a while before letting go and looking back into those eyes, that were drying up a little too quickly for his liking…maybe there was still a lot to be done before she could let go completely. He glanced over at Boromir and Mel took the hint, letting him move over to his other friend who was only now just waking up.

"Hi, Boro Man." Avon got time to blink at least before the fist crashed into the side of his face and cut his lip, knocking him backwards until he was staring up at the ceiling in a daze. He vaguely heard a rain of swearwords pour out of the man's mouth and he winced, not only from the punch, but also from the knowledge that more were to follow from Mel. He had taught those words to the man in the first place and she would definitely not be happy. He could understand, if only a little, how the shock of him being alive would force his friends to have overwhelming emotions, especially overwhelming anger. But he never expected pain, not even from the man.

"Sam!" Frodo's scream of absolute joy rang in his ears and he half frowned, half smiled. Why couldn't Sam at least get the same treatment as him, he was getting double whammies from his friends after all.

A face came into his vision and he flinched, waiting for the elf to add his mark but Legolas only shook his head and smiled. "You took your time." This made the man frown deeply, he had no idea if this was a good thing or not. It was a choice between thinking the elf could read his thoughts, or he was just trying to add his bit to the lightning atmosphere around them.

"Good old Sam! Knew you'd make it."

"Did you fight the balrog?"

"How did you get out?"

"Did you just get here?"

"Sam's a strong one he is."

Merry and Pippin's rain of words and questions soon included the rest of the company, all focussed on Sam of course and Avon felt a little left out.

"Hey! I'm here too." He sat up and instantly regretted it as two small objects bowled him over and asked him more questions than his brain could manage. This on top of the dwarf's complaining, Legolas' compromising, Aragorn's explaining, Mel's own questions and so forth. But what got to him the most was the fact that Boromir hadn't come near him yet; he looked at Avon with a mixture of fear and…hatred? He couldn't understand it and it was pushed to the back of his mind when a new strain of questions started.

"What's with your eye?"

"Is that a new scar?"

"Are you hungry?"

"Did you get to eat?"

"Did you have to go up in the trees with the elves too?"

"Are you ghosts?"

He noticed Lot standing over by the entrance with an annoying smile on his face. 'Been there.' He mouthed and Avon groaned inwardly, the elf was finding it far too amusing to be the observer instead of the victim and it wasn't reassuring the man one bit. Avon lay on his back for quite a while longer, and soon he had a new problem…such as how to get two very annoying ex arch-enemies to stop giving him the third degree for "not keeping up with the group when running from a balrog". It finally took Avon to show them his foot and wrist (now nicely healed) to convince them and make the elf go remarkably pale.

"It's ok Legolas, it's not your fault for giving me the stuff. My foot stopped me from running all the way in the first place." He sat up and grabbed the elf's shoulder, he was staring at the floor and obviously trying not to show too much outward emotion…most likely because the dwarf was there.

Legolas nodded a little. "I suppose." He said, looking back up at Avon with a small smile gracing his face. "At least you have returned, with Sam." He motioned towards the hobbit. He was being held in a fierce hug from Frodo who was crying with happiness. "At least you have returned."

* * * * 

The time simply flew by after Avon's and Sam's miraculous return and before they knew it, it was time to go. It was when they were brought back to see the Lady and another golden elf Avon had just met as Celeborn, that he was faced with a dilemma; go on into most probable death while looking after the Ringbearer, or stay in the wood's peaceful bliss.

The room was totally silent for a while, he wondered if all the others were having the same trouble as him in deciding, except Frodo, Aragorn and Sam of course. The two hobbits looked a little different tonight, they seemed to have made their choice long before and have the knowledge of what was to come popped into their heads as well. Aragorn would go with Frodo wherever he went, and wherever the Ring went too. Avon had forgotten about Ken for quite a while, until now when the reality of their situation hit him like a blow in the gut. Would the voice come back as soon as they left the elves?

He looked around at the gloomy company and rubbed his eyes unconsciously, a semi-greyness obscuring a spot in his vision. As he reached into a pouch, pulled out a sprig of herb and chewed the bitter leaf, he studied the faces of the others while trying to think straight. Aragorn, Frodo and Sam looked resolved, as he'd noticed before. Pippin and Merry though were darting glances at one another while chewing their bottom lips, obviously as torn as he was. Legolas and Gimli stood close to one another and seemed to have no worries at all, then he saw the furtive looks they were giving one another and realised it was all just a front, to show each other up while trying to hide their own fear underneath it all. Typical, Avon thought as he moved on to his two closest friends.

Boromir shuffled his feet as he stood there, just staring at the floor and he knew the man had already made up his mind, he was going back to Minas Tirith…and Avon would go with him. But he wasn't sure anymore about where this friendship was going, the older man had become distant and continually irritable whenever Avon said something slightly wrong, or even if he didn't and Boromir would just take offence anyway. He had come to a decision to find out exactly what was going on, and this finalised his choice of going with the man, and with the company if they were all going in the same direction. Mel was just a mask of pure indifference, even though the others and himself were obviously still grieving over Gandalf, her coldness to the subject was such that it was almost like she knew something the rest of them didn't. As the blurriness dissipated with the effects of the herb doing its job, he resolved to find out exactly what the heck was going on with his friends before…

"They all resolve to go forward." Galadriel's voice cut through his thoughts and he looked at her in admiration and awe. She was more than beautiful and majestic, she was so ethereal and good that she was untouchable…he hoped that Celeborn, as her husband, would see that and appreciate it as much as he did. As she smiled at him right there, his face went red at the knowledge that she knew exactly what he was thinking, but that also ceased him from worrying so much and just focus on the here and now.

Later on, as he trailed behind the rest as they all made their way back to their pavilion, he spoke quietly to Lot who was accompanying them.

"What is it like?" he asked, "Living here I mean?"

Lot smiled. "I have never known otherwise. But for me it is a home I never wish to leave, though the time is coming soon that I, as all elves, must depart these shores and seek the lands in the west." He sighed. "But at this moment, every minute is both eternity and too short to spend in such beauty and splendour. I shall miss the Lady when she departs."

"When's that happening?" Avon looked at him sharply.

"If the One Ring is destroyed, none know what will truly happen. But the suspicion is that the three elven rings of power will diminish, and those that possess them must leave these lands…" He stopped and stared at Avon in a look of shock. "Please, do not heed what I say! It is all mere stories and the rings' owners are not to be known…"

"Hey!" Avon smiled. "It's a secret ok. I won't tell a soul about Galadriel and," he coughed, "her ring."

Lot smiled in relief. "I should watch my tongue, it will get me into more trouble than I could stand."

They both laughed and finally came upon the pavilion, where Lot said goodbye and left the man to his own devices. He talked with Sam for a short while, reminiscing over what they had both been through, and what had strengthened the hobbit's resolve to stay as close as he could to Frodo. The latter looked much better then when he had first seen him, all pale and thin, like he really had been physically sick instead of grieving heavily.

The whole group talked well into the night and it was only when he went to ask Mel a question, that he realised she was missing.

"Hey, where's Mel?"

This question only startled Sam and he looked back at the man worriedly. For some reason, everyone else was trying to hide secret smiles and something seemed to dawn on him.

"Ok. How many know?"

Boromir chuckled, a sound almost alien to the man as he stared at Avon sincerely. "Everyone except herself, of course."

"In fact," Aragorn spoke up, grinning broadly, "I was the last to find out, and it was only by chance that I did." There was a muffled snort and Gimli stuffed his cloak into his mouth, trying hard not to laugh. Most of the others were doing the same and it was only Legolas that was keeping his emotions in check, his eyes glittering and the corner of his mouth twitching with it.

With that, Avon stood up abruptly, putting on a fierce expression and storming over to where their low beds were. All the smiles vanished and they looked at him with strange looks, but they were totally caught off guard when a barrage of pillows and rolled up blankets came hurtling at them. They were hurled with such accuracy that most ended up wrapped around their heads as they laughed and struggled to throw them back.

The man laughed as he spoke each word sharply, punctuating nearly each one with a hit on one person's head. "That's," Avon hit Pippin over the head with a pillow, "for," now Gimli, "driving," Boromir, "me," Legolas, "up," Aragorn and Merry at the same time, "the mental" Legolas three more times "wall!" He aimed for Frodo but was stopped by a well-aimed ball of blanket, wrapping itself around his face as Sam yelled a battle cry and tackled him to the ground.

"No one touches Mister Frodo!" He yelled, but without too much sincerity as the rest ganged up on him, and he soon had to struggle out of a huge pile of various blankets, pillows, clothing and other assorted items.

"Ok," he sighed, "so you know. Aren't there any problems with it?" There were shakes of the head all round and Avon only saw Aragorn blush deeply. Apparently, the man had been the only one with any qualms about having a female in the group and, though the others had found out in various and quite different ways, he was the only one to voice it openly after finding out. This was when he found out they already knew, and added to Avon's lecture by complaining in her defence.

After a while of explanations, Avon asked his original question again. Sam perked up and nodded vigorously at them, as he was also in the dark as to why that question should have led to the all round confessions of the Fellowship. Legolas answered.

"She is possibly away with Orophin, this is our last night in these fairs woods after all and…" he drifted off, leaving Avon to his own imagination. This was a little too vivid though and all colour drained from his face.

"Orophin? THE Orophin?" His mouth dropped open as the rest nodded, all now sober at the recalled subject of them leaving the next morning. "But…but not that elf. Anyone but that one." He mumbled as the images sprang up in his mind and he shuddered, eliciting a small laugh from those who saw it. He knew she had been falling for one of the elves here, but it didn't have to be the one who he had already labelled as 'The Human Scientist'. Her being with an immortal was one thing, Orophin was another.

Mel never returned that night, they all knew why, and for some reason Avon saw Legolas as being both sad and incredibly happy at the same time. As the night wore on and the elf was making no move to go to sleep, the man decided to confront him.

"Hey, Leggy. What's up?" The elf smiled up at him as he approached, sitting down next to him and waiting for a reply.

"I suppose I should tell you, Mel is your relation anyhow and you deserve to know."

Avon opened his mouth to correct the 'relation' point, but shut it quickly, realizing that they all must be thinking that he and Mel were related…like brother and sister. He thought this as he waited for Legolas to continue.

"In the elvish culture," he started, speaking slowly and precise, "an elf giving themselves to an immortal is rare, it has happened only a few times in history and only once has a neri given himself to a mortal female."

"Neri?" Avon asked.

"A male elf, nissi is female." He waited as Avon nodded before continuing. "But when they do, it is assured that their life will be shortened by the fact that the mortal will die, and the elf will follow soon after…with grief. It is a great loss and, as Orophin has proven this night that he has promised himself to your kin, it will mean we will now lose two instead of the one, even though that too is a loss and is grievous to us all."

"You're talking about Arwen, aren't you?" Avon sighed as Legolas nodded.

"The Evenstar will be lost, and now so will another golden one." The elf frowned and Avon followed suit.

"I know it must be hard for you and all, but can't you be happy for 'em?"

Legolas smiled softly. "Of course, love is precious and I wish them both well."

"How do you know he's 'promised' himself to Mel?" He queried innocently.

"Avon, the very fact that Mel is not here and that the trees are humming their joy, is explanation in itself." Legolas stared directly at the man as he said this, letting his mind tick over before it suddenly made sense and he gasped. "Yes, you understand now."

Avon nodded slowly and let the silence continue. This was as good as marriage for these guys, he thought to himself, pondering over what his and Mel's future was going to be like if she was going to have such a commitment here. Also, if things were going to go the way they had been in the past, this was basically a suicide mission and Orophin was definitely going to have a broken heart. As he tried to go to sleep, he made a sincere promise, that he would pay Orophin, and the elves in general, back for them looking after him and basically saving his life. He would do this by keeping Mel safe at all costs so at least one elf would not have to suffer for her early death. At all costs…including his own life if it was necessary. 

TBC

* * * *

This story won't end anytime soon, it has become longer than I could ever imagine. I am proud of this, 100 pages so far and counting. I retrieved all information of elves from reliable and true sources, I never make up elf facts…ever. A point here, Avon has basically forgotten everything about LOTR seeing he never became entrenched in it like Mel, so he is finding every new thing as amazing and as confusing as though he had never thought it could ever exist. Cate Blanchet is a well-known actress, he remembers only her name and the fact that she played Galadriel…but nothing els, he can't even remember what she looked like in costume as reality has driven most of that out of his head. Just saying this to help those who are wondering about everything, you know, about him being stupid enough to fall in love with a great Lady like Galadriel. Yes you heard me…LOVE, poor guy, he's turning into Gimli.

Reviews. I want to thank EVERYONE from the bottom of my heart. I got more reviews for the last chapter than I did in the others and was positively STOKED. I couldn't believe my eyes and I'm now REALLY feeling wanted. Thanks to- Silver Kalan, Karone, darkfeather22, Taraedaiel, SailorGurl and Anita. I wish I could have the time to put in official thanks and all, but maybe, just maybe, if you keep on reading, I might just do that I give you the biggest flippen thanks of my life. YOU ALL RULE!!!!!!!

Ta ta  


	14. Tense as a Bowstring

**Authors Note:** As I said in my note last "chap", I have been having a few emotional problems and real life has stretched out its hard hand and gripped me to the full. Am now recovering and hopefully this chapter will make up for these last *looks at her electronic calendar on her watch* three and a bit months. I hope to update regularly again but don't hold your breath, though I really want to get this baby done. This story is not meant to just be about someone joining the Fellowship…it is all that goes with it, the feelings and actions caused by these feelings. If it says anything, when I read the books back in mid high school years, I imagined something like this so hard that it brings me too much joy now to share something like it to the rest of you. Fanfiction was the opening, hopefully all minds think alike in that sense. *laughs*. Anyway, this chapter gave me more migraines than I would care to admit because of it's complexity. For example, I jump from Avon's point of view in the first section to Gimli's in the second, then it goes in to an almost 3rd person format before drifting gently back to Avon after tampering on the ranger's own mind. This made it very difficult but it is also very important. You could call this chapter a Bridge, it sets up a sort of scene for things that follow well into the story and also bridges that dangerous gap between Lothlórien and Amon Hen, or at least Sarn Gebir at the rapids. I call it dangerous because this is where so many slip up. After so much detail pertaining these 8 days of travel down the Great River, many simply skip it and move onto the inevitable fight and consequential death of Boromir of which they either spend many long sorrowful paragraphs lamenting it, or skip it entirely and brush it of coz he's 'a bad man'. I have nothing against these people really, but I needed this to be different as many forces come into play in this time (which took a lot of research mind you) and have a major effect on what happens in the next chapter and the one after…maybe even letting it's tendrils seep into chapters beyond these two and creating a nice confusing web for you all to read your way out of. *smiles*. 

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them. *stares and waits for someone to contradict her*.

**Summery:** The journey down the river. *is still staring, she's in a mood which makes everyone have to guess what is going on in her head*

Read on dear friends, read on.

*~*~*~*~*

**CHAP 14: Tense as a Bowstring**

Galadriel had given them a feast fit for a palace of kings, and the hobbits had thoughts so too as they tucked in to more helpings than he could count. She and Celeborn had made them feel so welcome in the city, and now they were making them feel like they never wanted to leave. The feeling stayed with him for ages afterwards and it was only when they were actually well on their way down the river, that Avon fully regretted not showing his thoughts to the Lady. She had asked him the second time as she gave them all gifts, every single one efficient and having a purpose, except Gimli's request of three strands of her hair, which answered quite a few questions about his feelings for the Lady. But Avon had just blocked and parried away from her question and she had complied, not prying into his mind like he hoped she wouldn't.

But he really regretted it now as the river swept them away, and her voice lingered in his mind for a final moment.

//Take care of her, but beware of temptations and know your place. You are a protector of the Ringbearer, and that is where your honour lies. Remember it well//

He thought about it carefully as Mel paddled, leaving him free to inspect his own gift with deep appreciation. Galadriel had given Pippin and Merry these charming little belts and those two hadn't shut up about it, prancing around for quite a while afterwards as they showed off. Aragorn had got a sheath for his sword, Avon had forgotten what it was called again and had to ask him…Andúril, and this little brooch that he had only caught a glimpse of before it was hidden by his cloak. Legolas had received a new bow and quiver full of arrows, he gave the old one to Avon as a small present and the man couldn't hide his excitement. Maybe now he could finally try to match Mel in something (though it was a long shot, she had been using one for months, he needed to try and relearn everything from the previous year and even then, they were non-moving targets). Sam had a box of dirt, the man thought there must be some kind of hidden meaning about this but he couldn't figure it out at all. Boromir had this belt of gold that the man simply couldn't keep his hands off, Avon couldn't blame him, it was mesmerising. Frodo had received a phial, which apparently held the light of Eärendil's star and the poor hobbit had become speechless, only bowing as she smiled that mysterious smile of hers. But he enjoyed his own gifts the most. He and Mel had received staffs made of mallorn; stronger and less likely to snap in two like his previous one, which he had given to Lot for safe keeping. They also had spearheads, but these ones were longer, sharper and had a leaf shaped quality to them with the vein-like patterns running over them in intricate lines. Mel had also got a new quiver of arrows, but she refused the bow, saying her own was like a best friend to her and had served her well. It was corny and seriously cliché, but she only glared at him when he commented so he shut up.

Avon had asked, rather quietly, if he could have another boot knife (his old trusty one had gone missing after his fall) and had received four…it was sometimes a very good thing to ask, you never knew what you might get.

Now, as they travelled slowly yet with gathering speed down the river, he felt depressed and sad all over again at the thought that this was another place that he liked and would never see again. Mel was paddling now, but he would take over as soon as she got tired (which would be long before she complained and he would have to force her to rest) and face the repetitive chore for the next several hours until Aragorn called a halt and he could sleep, before doing it all again the next day.

He smiled slightly as the memory of that morning came up, seeming as fresh and enjoyable as if it had only happened a minute ago. He had stood next to his and Mel's packs, his being new, and couldn't help a really cheesy grin come up on his face when she finally came into view. She was positively glowing, it was something she couldn't really hide from the others as well and they all shared a private laugh, which naturally made a blush draw up alongside the glow. It was a sight he wasn't likely to forget anytime soon and he kept hold of it in these quiet moments, revelling in the comfort it gave.

No one really spoke that first day, even when Avon felt like complaining when they didn't stop until it was at least 9 or 10 o'clock at night. He really missed the modern convenience of having a watch, but he was getting slightly used to the hard way of living and even though he felt horribly homesick, he was also starting to accept that this was where he was probably going to stay for the rest of his life, however long that may be. He didn't sleep well that night, as he had basically no brain activity throughout the day, so this had somehow computed in his head that he had already slept. It made for him to be the most irritated person in the group the next morning and no one could get a word in edgewise, unless they wanted to be snapped at.

The fact that it was another boring day of just sitting and waiting, as the river took them down and south, straight towards a place Avon really wished to avoid completely, made his irritation worse. He remembered his short stay at Minas Tirith, and those black mountains only a short way away but still far enough to not make him worry too much about them. Now they were going there, and hopefully Boromir would take his own advice and just go back to his city, then Avon could have his own choice of either going with him, or going to Mount Doom where he would probably never return. He would choose Minas Tirith any day. But, even though the man had warmed up to him again, Boromir was still giving him a general cold-shoulder and he hoped it was just because he had been shocked out of his mind when a dead man walked in. He would have asked Aragorn if they could have gotten closer to his boat, but even on land it was hard to get a moment alone with the man, he was never alone.

Two more days past like this and a pounding headache now started accompanying him whenever he woke up, so he gave up trying to sleep and usually just lay staring at the stars through the clouds. 

Night came on the third day, Gimli took first watch and he was chosen for second. The dwarf tried to lure him into a conversation but gave up after the man started shoving his knives systematically into the ground, using the explanation that it kept rust off the blades. But when he started stabbing them into soggy pieces of wood, Gimli took the hint and left after the man did it rather viciously while looking straight at him. The watch lasted longer than it was intended, as Avon never felt the time go by or felt tired until Aragorn shook his shoulder and complained.

"You have taken almost all my watch. Get some rest, you will wish you had by the morning."

"So! It's not like we'll be doing anything anyway." The younger man snapped and stormed off. He didn't really care where he went until he came to the shore a fair way away from the camp and he sat down sharp, peeling at blades of grass in a quivering rage. It was mainly the lack of sleep and the boredom that was getting him so wound up like this, he could even feel Mel catching it as well and it was only a matter of time before they were going to both lash out at the same time. It was not going to be pretty.

He thought about things for a while, just trying to get his overheated brain a chance to cool down. He often thought about Ken now, the voice hadn't made his expected appearance after leaving Lothlórien and he didn't know whether to feel relieved about the absence of the parasite or not. Somehow the silence didn't feel too reassuring, like it was a time bomb waiting for the right moment to explode, like a silent doom just about to pounce, like…

He saw something. Squinting his eyes, Avon peered out onto the water surface and scanned for whatever it was that caught his eye. Seeing nothing, he went back to his brooding and continual shredding of any leaf or grass blade he could find. A time bomb, if Ken was ever going to make himself known, it had better be soon or he would go crazy just wondering about it.

He was drifting off into his thoughts once more before he saw it again. This time, it was unmistakable and he fought the urge to jump up and get Aragorn. No, for once he was going to do something for himself, and not have to rely on anyone else to do it for him. He kept perfectly still, his hand ready to draw his sword in an instant if the spider-like shadow came any closer than need be. It was a strange feeling that came over him, knowing that this was something significant to do with what would come in the future, but not knowing what. It was strange, but it didn't stop him from tracking the figure until it was only a few feet away, seemingly unaware of Avon's presence under the dark shadow of a tree.

"Nasty hobbit, stole our precious. He pays for it, yesss. He payss dearly for it." The hissing told him straight away who it was. The man had heard enough stories from Frodo; about Bilbo's confrontation with Gollum and the ways he hissed his words with a pathetic twinge. This was too similar to be just a coincidence, and it definitely was no Orc as he would probably be dead by now if it was, those guys could sense red blood like two opposing magnets and be drawn straight to it, a well as the fact they were a lot bigger.

He waited a little longer as the dripping creature crept silently up the bank towards him, still totally oblivious that he was even there. It wasn't until he was merely a meter or two away that he stopped, locked in a frozen position with a distinct sound of sniffing accompanying it. He had sensed Avon. With that, the man gave up trying to be inconspicuous and yelled, leaping for Gollum and just grabbing the slippery creature by its ankles as he screamed and thrashed about.

"Ai! They've got us! Nasties-sss got us gollum! Must FLEE!" he scrabbled at the dirt and kicked his feet, making it harder for the man to keep his grip as he was partially dragged along behind him, digging his heels into the ground.

"Keep still! You little freak!" Avon gritted his teeth and winced as some sticks and sharp rocks dug into him. He was being pulled along by something half his size and twice his strength, it just didn't add up. As he thought this out, something wet and mushy slammed into his face then, forcing him to lose his grip and balance as he fell backwards into the mud and slid down a little into the water.

"Hie! Avon, what in the world happened to you?" 

As he wiped the mud that the creature had slammed into his face from his eyes, he noticed a rather confused Aragorn standing above him, alongside a definitely confused Boromir.

"I fell." He growled, getting up unsteadily to his knees and trying to wash himself a bit in the river water.

Boromir's eyes narrowed. "You fell, you say. Then your fall is quite an unusual one if it means you had to fight it." He pointed accusingly at the marks Avon had left as Gollum had dragged him down to the water, a frown coming up on his face as the younger man shrugged nonchalantly and stood up.

"It was a big fall."

"Avon, I think we need to talk." His friend growled and Avon snapped.

"No, Boromir, I think you need to talk. You have problems man and I want to know what they are." He glared at the man, knowing that just by using his full name, he was meaning business.

Boromir's eye twitched. "I have problems?" He glared back and Aragorn took a step backwards, more than a little worried about the developing confrontation between two, once close, friends. "Who is the one who has been snapping the heads off anyone who dares approach him? Even the halflings of all people."

"I'm not snapping!" Avon snapped, totally contradicting himself. "You never even talk to me anymore!"

Boromir suddenly looked surprised. "I..."

"I mean it!" Avon continued, letting it all out in one go. "You never talk to me, you keep your distance and not once have you even told me what the hell is going on inside your head! I don't know what the hell is going on, but ever since I came back…you're not the same anymore!"

"Do you really want to know?" Boromir challenged, balling his fists and facing him off. "I thought you were dead! I felt more guilt than I have ever felt in my entire life when I realised I had the power to stop it from happening. I tried to stop it and failed! Whenever I looked into Samson or Frodo's eyes, all I saw was my own failure in them alongside their pain. Did you ever wonder what went through my head that day? When you stood in front of us, it was like I was seeing death…as a punishment for not saving you, I was going to be haunted by your memory. After that I didn't know how to change it, how to make myself truly believe that you were alive and not just another contrivance of my own guilt. I had to stay away and it was not only because of that, but you were different, very different."

The younger man just gaped, trying to find some kind of retort but coming up blank. The scary part was that he was making a lot of sense, sense that was making his mind reel.

"When I first met you, Avon," he continued, calming down somewhat, "you were an innocent, completely unused to the way of life you are now almost a part of. You were no warrior, yet you carried a sword. I had never met you before, yet you seemed to know more about my family and me than seemed normal. This never stopped you, though, from going head forth into what you termed as 'adventure', and the facts simply were no longer important. You were almost as innocent as a hobbit and that was a very rare and precious thing indeed. You were still an innocent even as we climbed Caradhras, even as the Watcher attacked and even as we walked through the mines. But when you were fighting those foul creatures, I had a…a thought about what would happen to you in the future and tried to stop it. Oh by the Valar I tried…but it was not good enough and you fell, into what, I must say, changed you forever. You have changed, you are no longer innocent and this is even as grievous to me as if you were still dead, for you and can never truly again be friends, nor will you ever see the world the same again." Boromir had calmed down considerably from his anger, now he was almost whispering as he stared at Avon sadly.

The younger man was in a state of shock. He had no idea that his friend was feeling like this. It put him into silent mode and he walked quietly back to the camp, leaving Boromir and Aragorn to stare after him, one with an expression of pity, the other looking worn, weak and simply too tired and sad to care.

He found his bedroll near the company elf and sat down on it, simply thinking about what the man had said. As he thought deeply, he realised that it was all true, that he had indeed lost his innocence and was now becoming tough and hardened. The experience in the mines had changed him as well, it had forced this hardness to become almost like stone and wipe away any softness he might of kept, erasing anything that had made him 'Avon', and leaving something else behind.

"I'm not me." He whispered softly, hugging his knees to his chest.

"No, you are no longer what you were. But you have grown and learned from that which is past, and all that truly means is…you are older."

Avon just stared at the elf, he had no idea the guy was even awake with those eyes of his, they never shut. Even though they had been travelling together for weeks, he still couldn't tell.

"But…" the man stuttered, then just sighed. "Yeah, I suppose." He still had a few questions of what he looked like to the others now, especially to Mel. She certainly had gained a second skin since the mines, as well as quite an intense temper that was simmering below the surface all the time, especially now. 

He thought of another thing on top of everything else. He should have told Aragorn the truth, about the fact that Gollum was following them and he nearly caught that creep. He was about to think how to go about that, how to confront the ranger and all, but he wasn't going to be left to his thoughts tonight. Even as he lay on his back and watched Legolas do the same again out of the corner of his eye, everything changed.

"Avon…?" The last thing he heard that night from the outside world was the elf, stuttering in fear as something came over him. The last thing he saw before the pain was the elf's face. Legolas had sat up again and was staring straight at him, terror twisting his features before he choked, gasped and fell back.

Avon felt it clawing at his mind like daggers and he tried to scream, but he couldn't and as he lost consciousness he heard a voice. A voice he had hoped was going to never come back ever again.

'Hello. You have taken your time, now it is my turn.' Ken laughed softly as darkness came and he thought of nothing anymore.

* * * *

Gimli wasn't usually a prying person. In fact he tried to avoid asking questions at all costs, it was a show of weakness if you let one know of your ignorance, it was always better to try and dredge the information out of someone without making yourself conspicuous. But this was different, very strange and slightly disturbing and he needed to find out exactly what was going on.

"Aragorn, may I have a word?" he tapped the future king on the shoulder and the man turned, smiling broadly as he patted the space next to him as in invitation to sit down. Gimli shook his head. "Alone." He said softly, assured that the ears of the elf were still too close to be comfortable.

Aragorn frowned a little but complied and they walked a short distance away, finding themselves by the boats about 30 yards from the rest of the company. "What is it, Son of Gloin?"

"First, how much longer till the rapids?"

Aragorn furrowed his brow and looked south. "Do not ask me now, I don't think we will be upon them for a few days yet. But at the speed we have been travelling, maybe a week or more."

"Oh." Gimli chewed his lip quietly. He knew that the ranger was waiting for more; he was not here merely for idle chat. "It's about the elf and others," his hope that the man knew exactly of whom he was speaking of was answered with a nod, "they have been acting strange, and I cannot wait any longer. What is going on?"

"Alas," said Aragorn, "I do not know. Perhaps it is merely the daily repetition that is forcing this strangeness upon them?" 

Gimli nodded at the vague explanation and sighed when a call for assistance came from one of the hobbits, they would have to continue this another time. But he was not satisfied. As he and the man walked back to camp, the dwarf scanned the Fellowship with a critical eye. In the mist it was hard to see clearly, especially this early in the morning, but he couldn't miss the wheat golden hair of his friend the elf, nor the darker head sitting next to him as they conversed over something or another. They always sat near each other now, just like they did for those few days before Caradhras, but maybe he could say that this was more so.

They had been doing this for many days, and Legolas had gone as far as to make him sit with Samson in her boat while the elf sat with Avon. How many days had this been happening? He guessed it to be about 4 now; from the day before they found out Gollum was following them, when Frodo had piped up about it. It was the strangest thing he had ever experienced, becoming friends with an elf of all people, then being put aside like a pair of old boots. The only thing he could take as being positive about all this was the fact that he and Samson were becoming a bit friendly, not like before when all they would basically do was bark orders at one another and say the occasional 'hello'. But he still wished the elf would stop looking so sad, and Avon looking so tense, it wasn't normal and he wanted to put a stop to it right here and now.

"Here!" He called, marching over to Samson as she bent over her bedroll, fixing it so it could be attached to her pack with ease. "Samson, can you do something for me?"

She straightened up and smiled. "Sure, what is it?"

"Can you teach me how to fight? Like you do I mean?"

Now that was unexpected. She surely had not been thinking about fighting when he had asked this of her, but he knew of her own and Avon's unique way of fighting and he wanted a taste of it, curiosity had overwhelmed him now and he needed to know how it was done. It was also a way to get the stoic elf and completely annoying man to take notice of something apart from their own little world.

"Uh, sure." Samson, who retained the name he had known her as for so long before he discovered the truth, stood up, brushing leafy debris from her clothes as she found a clear spot at side of the campsite. "Ok, do this, hold your fists and arms like…no, this…oh come on…GIMLI!!" She had lost her temper with him in a matter of moments. Was he really that bad?

"Mel! You're not showing him right." Avon had noticed and had decided to join in, which was exactly what the dwarf had been hoping he would do.

"Who says I'm not showing him right?" She huffed, blowing a stray piece of hair from her eyes. Being female it grew faster then the males and she had been obviously shearing it continuously throughout the journey. But she never admitted this to the others, thinking that her secret was still safe and thoroughly intact. Gimli dreaded the moment that she would find out; hopefully their own secret could be kept for quite a while longer before they had to face her almost infamous wrath. Avon still held some bruises from her pummelling a few days before when he had dared to say nothing was wrong, when it was obvious his head was paining him and his irritation was worse than it ever had been.

"I say it's just not right, he hasn't even done any loosening stretches. And all that armour isn't helping." He poked the dwarf in the back and a chink was heard as the mail moved.

"Oh?" Samson squinted her eyes. "I thought the exercises were only for the wussy, O Great One." She mock-bowed and he growled warningly.

"Watch it, Mel. I'm not in the mood." 

She huffed again at that but finally settled down to listen. 

"Mel," he said softly, "we've been sitting in these damn stupid boats for days. If you're not stiff from all that then I have a monkey's ass."

"I'm not stiff." She retorted and he laughed.

"Ok then, prove it."

"I…" Samson tried to say something but gave up, proceeding to stretch her arms and legs in quite strange and different ways. Avon followed suit and they both leaned against a tree for extra leverage. Then they seemed to know exactly what else was needed and Avon moved around in front of her, grabbing one of her legs and pushing it up while she leaned against the bold of the tree in obvious discomfort. The leg was dead straight and it almost looked like she was going to split down the middle, it looked very painful and he was curious as to why she continually asked Avon to push it up higher until was almost leaning into it, his arms long and hands wrapped securely around her ankle.

Gimli wasn't used to seeing a leg go up that high and he blushed, hoping that his beard would hide it. It would not do if he looked embarrassed about something a 'man' was doing; he had just never seen a female do it.

"Ah man, that really hurts." Samson had lowered her leg slowly with some help from the man and was now massaging the inside of the thigh, cringing as she did so. "Other one." She said and the process was repeated with the other leg.

Avon looked like he was in about the same amount of pain as her when she had done the same to him. They were now both sitting on the ground with their legs crossed in a way, feet flat up against the other as they leaned over them with their foreheads trying to touch the ground. Gimli tried it and bit his lip, it was far too painful and he thought deeply about how many years it must have taken these young ones to get their muscles so limber and strong.

"Ok," Avon was rubbing the back of his neck for some reason as he stood up and looked at Samson. "Now, can you do a bend-back?"

She glared at him. "Of course I can do one, I'm not that far gone you know." She then stood up, put her arms above her head and proceeded to bend over backwards…uh-oh. "Oh crap!" She gave a slight screech as she lost her balance and hit the ground hard, the air being knocked out of her as she did so.

Avon smirked. "See, told you."

She seemed to be having a bit of trouble getting her breath back and Gimli was about to help her when two little figures came dashing in front of him, reaching her before he could.

"Are you ok?" Pippin pulled an arm and she sat upright, rubbing her back with the other.

"That was quite a trick. How did you do it?" Merry plopped himself down next to her and put on his question face, the face that everyone had come to recognise as the one that would not leave them alone until they were rung dry of answers.

"It's not meant to be like that." She murmured.

Avon laughed. "Of course not! It's meant to be like this." He lay down on his back and arched it, placing his hands palm down by his head as he hoisted his body into the air. He grinned at the dwarf upside-down while Samson continued her scowling.

"Try it my way and see where you get."

"I'm not that stupid." Gimli could see the woman bristle at the comment, but Avon ignored it. "We're too stiff and out of practice." He grunted as he lowered himself back to the ground. "Better get into shape for Mordor before we actually get there." He added offhandedly, totally ignoring the fact that the camp was now silent of any harmless chatter from the hobbits, or sounds of packing up by the others.

Gimli was shocked that he could mention such a place as Mordor with such nonchalance. Everyone else seemed to be thinking the same thing as well as they eyed the man carefully, watching him as he straightened himself out and walked back to the elf. Everyone was thinking it, except Legolas.

The elf greeted the man with a small acknowledgement of raising his eyebrows slightly and nodding to the space next to him. He had been fletching and tipping some new arrows over the last few days or so in his spare time, and he often showed the man how to do it himself as well as basic archery. The strange companionship between the two was unnerving in it's simplicity, the way they seemed to be able to communicate in subtle nods and gestures and know exactly what was meant to be said. Gimli could never quite figure it out.

Legolas was his usual aloof self. Haughty and proud he reeked of superiority and seemed to always flaunt his abilities, like the elf he was. Nothing had changed there. But there was a new and different way he seemed to hold himself and associate with the other members of the company, it was only slight, but not slight enough to dodge a sharp dwarf's attention. 

Avon was now fumbling with his fingers to smooth out the globules of wax that had stuck there. It was quite a comical sight, even as he was trying to smear it onto the feathers it simply was not working right and Gimli gripped his axe handle reassuringly, thanking a higher power for letting the dwarves seek more realistic and less flimsy ways of fighting. The sight was funny; the others (even though the air was still tense from the words spoken earlier) were all having a quiet laugh at it, but the one they were laughing about barely noticed. 

He was frowning. He was focussing so hard on his task that he was unaware of his unconscious movements. The consistent rubbing of the base of his neck and forehead with his left hand, the twitch in his eye becoming more pronounced by the moment and the frown deepening in frustration. Finally he gave up with a grunt and let the elf do it all, crossing his arms in resignation.

"Gimli? Gimli!" Samson's voice startled him out of his observation and he turned to face her.

"Yes?"

"Do you still want to learn?" She was holding Pippin by his collar as he struggled and twisted to get free and Merry was currently under her boot, flat on his stomach and pulling his best pout at her.

Gimli smiled wryly. "I do not know anymore, for there is something you may be missing in your techniques."

"What?" She frowned. Then before either could utter another word she was flat on her back and being tackled by two other hobbits who had appeared from nowhere, or seemingly nowhere to her. The dwarf had noticed Frodo and Sam sneaking up behind her while she tried keeping a hold on the younger two, now she was at the mercy of them all and it was a pleasant distraction from the doom hanging over the company as of late. Especially over the two behind him and the one over by the tree, the calm and distant man that had barely spoken a word since Avon's lapse.

He always wondered about their friendship, the man of Gondor and his charge. They used to always have something to laugh at and Avon would continuously bring out Boromir's childlike tendencies with various jokes and witty remarks. But since the Mines, that had all changed. Lothlórien had done little to heal them both and now Avon's distancing himself from the other was taking it's toll and the older man was really starting to show strain, his face creasing with new lines from stress and anxiety.

It was this that stopped the dwarf from trying to envelope himself in pleasant thoughts (of The Lady to be precise), the tenseness of the air surrounding the three affected him to the extent that he could never just drift and let his mind go. It was irritating, and it got more irritating as time passed. Irritation seemed to favour them.

The day past as usual with the boats cutting through the clear waters, sometimes they paddled, sometimes they didn't, it all depended on the current which seemed to be getting faster as the day continued. Gimli thought a lot now, something had happened shortly before they broke camp and he wondered why it was so recognisable.

Samson had ceased bantering with the little ones when Avon had approached her. They had conversed for a few moments out of his range of hearing and then had removed themselves into the trees, Legolas following shortly after. If he had not known about their kinship and the fact that Samson was already betrothed, to an elf apparently, he would have been VERY suspicious of this. But it seemed innocent enough and when they had returned, she had looked like she had completed a five-mile run in less then a quarter turn of the hour. The man was almost supporting her whole weight on his shoulder before she had realised they were being observed and had straightened up, smiling wanly around and promptly making herself right at home an a boat, Gimli following soon after. But he had been shooed out for some reason and was now with Legolas again, the elf staying silent but with much less tension than the previous day…he even graced a smile at the dwarf when he had ventured to turn around and glance at the taller one with slight curiosity.

When he looked over to Aragorn's boat he was pleased to note that Frodo was faring well. Sam had done nothing all morning except tend to his master's needs and the short scuffle with the woman had lightened both their sprits considerably. He knew that the young one was suffering, it was gathering day by day and he hated the fact that such a burden had to be placed upon one so small and innocent…and this was definitely not the first time he thought it, nor the last. He sighed, such were the dark powers and the doom they were all trying to fight, it would destroy the innocent and force them to fight for what they already owed…a true tragedy.

It wasn't until very late that night, when he was starting to nod from weariness that he realised something was the matter…Aragorn was not stopping. He sat up from the stupor he had settled in and looked around squinting against the darkness surrounding the four boats and realizing the main reason almost straight away. There was no shore to land on. Small cliffs and rocky hillocks lined the shore with straggly plants clinging desperately to the scarce soil and thorns growing in surprising abundance. The scenery had changed so quickly that Gimli was more than a little surprised, had they come so far as to be passing into the grey hill-country of the Emyn Muil already? That meant they were going faster than anticipated…it meant that the river seemed almost too eager to get them to their destination. It also meant they have to make the choice sooner than he would have liked, the choice whether to go with Frodo through the labyrinth of the mountains, or with Boromir of Gondor to aid in holding the forces of Mordor at bay. Either way, he was dreading the dangers and definite confrontations they would face and would more than likely end up dead.

With that thought he steeled himself to think the other direction, that if he died he would take down as many of those foul beasts as he possibly could with him. No one attacked a dwarven family and were left unpunished…his axe was hungry for Orc blood and he was no going to let it down.

* * * *

"OW! God DAMMIT!!" The yell echoed through the camp and many winced, knowing full well who and what caused the cry of pain and the hobbits rubbed their own noses subconsciously, wincing at the curses fluttering over to them as they tried to eat.

"You know Merry, that's the third time this day alone. How much more can he take before he just goes back to the sword?"

The hobbit being questioned looked up at his cousin who was staring at him expectantly, as if he knew all the answers of the world and was merely hiding them for his own enjoyment. "Don't ask me that, ask him when he comes back…and be sure to keep at least four feet away so he doesn't leap on you in fury like last time. Samson still has not forgiven him for that." Merry went straight back to eating and ignored Pippin then, because the curses were becoming more vehement and he was trying to pick up a few to try out on some of the lads back home. Surely they would be impressed.

"For Christ's sake you crazy elf! Why can't it just work?? It bloody doesn't work and you know it…don't you dare laugh at me or I'll shove this bow right up your arse so far it will come out you nose for a perfect game of ring-toss!!"

The hobbit couldn't help but wince slightly at that statement, but the picture it placed in his mind was one for amusement and he couldn't help but snicker slightly into his cold broth. The thought of Legolas with a bow…oh it was too much.

Avon soon came back into camp after a lengthy silence following a stream of swearwords that would have made any lady surely faint at their intensity. Samson merely glared. "You happy you got that out of your system?" She gave him a cold stare as he ignored her and went straight to his pack, grumbling as he retrieved a new bowstring and started re-stringing the weapon in his usual terse and angry manner.

Yes, things had indeed changed within the company. Frodo was becoming more withdrawn by the day, his hand creeping so often to his chest that it was almost starting to look natural on him…almost. Sam tended to him the same as always and seemed to manage to keep his mood light, if only for the sake of his master and for those others who needed a boost in spirits. His cooking, even with the lack of a regular fire, was still quite enjoyable in comparison to the dried meats and fruits they would have had to contend with and all this was levelled off with small nibbles of the elven wafer bread Lembas, though the two younger hobbits were notorious for take much more than small nibbles.

Aragorn had been steadily yet surely growing into his leadership position in the Fellowship in the sad absence of Gandalf, the wizard's presence was still drifting around them and the pain of his loss was still stinging. Merry and Pippin were predictable, complaining every chance they got about anything they could grasp…though this should have been annoying to most it was actually a nice reprieve from the silence of the surrounding areas…only birds were around and the eighth night of their journey on the river was nearing. Gimli was becoming meticulous in checking his weapons, though he barely needed to, it was all to keep his mind off certain things and to keep his hands busy. He kept to himself a lot and sometimes ventured to talk to the elf, who sometimes replied, and mostly did not, which usually kept precedence over anything else good. Legolas had a headache, strange for an elf and it was painfully obvious to those who knew him. Aragorn had voiced his concern more than once and had merely been waved off with a smile, the elf saying he could take care of it and it was only minor. Boromir was becoming almost as reclusive as Frodo, keeping his eyes down and focussing only on conscious tasks when they were appointed to him. Every now and then he would glance up at either Frodo or Avon, his eyes maybe lingering on the hobbit a moment longer but not too much to deserve intense attention.

And then it came to the two 'bag-carrying tagalongs'. They hadn't even been given the warning that no oath had been laid on them to stay within the Fellowship, even if they did not want it to be recorded. Most had thought it strange and unfair that these siblings should want to keep so inconspicuous that they would even deny the probable future peoples the chance of knowing who they were. This wasn't the biggest issue as most realised that if this whole mission failed, there would be no future…but the issue was this. 

Why? 

Samson, or Mel as she was called by her brother, had been sending off a rather sad 'vibe' or presence. For some reason, it didn't seem like she had grieved or was still grieving over Gandalf, like she had uttermost confidence he would return or she had simply convinced herself of it to cope. But rather this sadness was caused by something soon due to happen, the way she sometimes sneaked a glance at Boromir suggested she was worried for the stocky man, but nothing was ever said about it and no one was becoming any the wiser. Avon was simply angry and tired, the ranger had noted how little sleep the man had been getting and sometimes, if one listened at the right moment, they could hear him muttering a one-sided conversation with someone that they simply could not see. Nearly every time they would bank to rest, Avon and Samson would disappear into the foliage or behind some rocks, only to come back about half the turn of the hour later with Samson falling into an almost comatose sleep straight away and Avon remaining seated upright, just staring at some distant point somewhere. It was obvious they cared about each other deeply; usually her head would be resting in his lap while he would stroke her hair absent-mindedly as he thought about something. The pattern evolving from this was that all noted how much lighter he seemed to be after their little 'stroll', and the elf sometimes accompanying them and coming back with his eyes shining the stars they should seemed to say more. Aragorn was having the feeling that the woman, the "weak" woman, a thought he often rebuked himself for, had some natural healing tendencies. Not magic of course, or what some would classify as magic, but something that she simply had and had been trained somewhat to use. It was obvious she had little to no understanding of herbs and any of the healing plants really in the known parts of Middle Earth like he did, but the ranger often wondered what would happened if she were taught.

This was what had become of them all, a tense string ready to break under the pressure they were all under…a bit like the bow Avon tried to use and only successfully shot twice before it often snapped back at him and either the wood or string would knock him over the face and hands. They knew that anger and impatience caused this, and those same emotions were going to do the literal thing to the whole company soon if nothing broke the monotony and tension…they all wished the wizard were here, he always knew what to do.

* * * *

That night it was silent, not a breeze as they cut through the water again, not knowing really how fast they were going or exactly when they were going to hit the…

"Hie Strider! Look!" Sam pointed desperately with his hand as he had been on watch in the prow of their boat at the front. The ranger squinted and the feel of the other boats suddenly bumping into his own made up his mind and he called for them all to paddle as hard as they could for the shore…with little success.

The rapids were pulling them every which a way and someone heard a shout as Avon yelled for Samson to…well, wakeup, though not in such delicate terms. She had been sleeping as was her habit now, it seemed like she couldn't get enough sleep and the man was often the one paddling, it seemed to burn off a lot of his anger though so he relished it now…but they needed two oars and she was not helping.

Finally he slapped her. "Wake up!!" and with that he found himself with a bruised cheek as she took up her oar and started paddling with him. Because she was in front, he couldn't see her face but from the looks of things…she was pissed and scared stiff…she knew something.

"Mel? What is it?" He gritted out as gently as possible, all the energy normally fuelling his anger now working on his arms as they worked truly hard for the first time.

She whispered back. "Orcs." And he nearly froze…how in hell did she know there were Orcs? How the hell…he gritted his teeth again and tried to make their boat move with the others, but because they had been at the back, they were now being separated and he felt a pang of fear in his chest…rapids and Orcs were not the choices he had in mind tonight.

"Stridey!! We need help!" He called out and through the gloom he could see a bit of movement from one of the boats until something suddenly splashed into the water next to them.

"Did you get the rope?" Came a familiar voice…Boromir.

Avon shook his head and yelled out again over the sound of the rushing water. "No! You have to throw it again!" He splashed hard and tried to get themselves moving, they were started to go sideways and backwards at the same time and he felt the keel of the boat grate against the rocky bottom. He should have been scared out of his mind, but as the last few days had taught him, he could only really be scared of what he himself would be capable of.

At that moment in time, he stopped thinking as he realized the other boats were almost in the same predicament as they were, if a bit further up and he used the oar as a lever to push away from the shoals and try to meet them. The splash came again right next to him and he reached over quickly to grab the rope, only to feel a tearing pain over his hand as they grated alongside a rock and he almost got jammed against the sharp edge. And right then, fate dealt them another happy hand.

"Orcs!!" He could hear that dwarf from here and the distinct whistle of arrows dropping amongst them was almost a glad sight, or sound, if you could take it as sarcastically as possible. One went right by his ear and stuck by Mel's knee and they both froze for a second, staring at each other in shock before becoming frantic to get away from all this.

'It's funny how you are trying to get away from them. It's almost like you hate them.'

"Shut up, Ken." Avon hissed as they manoeuvred painfully slowly towards the other boats, all going at the same speed.

'But you shouldn't fear them…what if they really do want to help and are only having a little misunderstanding?'

He growled low in his throat at his parasite but knew anyway it was hopeless; the voice had done nothing but talk to him incessantly since that night about a week before. It had been breaching his walls of sanity and even though Mel's massages were helping somewhat with the head and shoulder pains…they never stopped the voice.

'Look, over there to your right, there's a small opening that you can slip through where the water doesn't flow so fast.'

Now this was the funny part about Ken and Avon's 'relationship', the voice may have been continually taunting him and bruising what little pride he had left in him after all they had been through…but when it came to life/death situations, Ken was rather a good and reliable help. When Avon pointed out the gap the Mel, she obliged and they shot through, gaining on the others quickly as Boromir was ready to throw the rope again and a large coil of it whopped Mel in the face and she went tumbling backwards in the boat, rocking it dangerously.

Nothing more was said on the issue until they finally got to the opposite shore and hid under some overhanging bushes while the elf shot down some huge flying dragon of sorts. Avon couldn't help but shudder as a cold feeling washed over him, and it wasn't nature's cold for that matter. After a while they got back upstream and while the rest discussed the beast and Ken was talking to Avon again, something came up in their conversation and he blinked.

"Mel, come here for a minute." She had been sitting in the foremost part of the boat, which was how they (or more rightly, Strider) had decided to camp that night. As she turned around and came shuffling towards him, he could not help the triumphant grin spread across his face. "I don't believe it."

The others heard his hushed voice of surprise and evident glee and they turned, looking at him curiously.

"What is it Von?" Sam piped up and this made the man hiccup on shushed laughter.

"I really don't believe it…it hit you full on." He touched the side of her face gently and she scowled.

"You didn't do a thing."

"Aye…but me mate Boro man here did and that's close enough for me." He grinned openly and tilted her chin slightly in the bright starlight. This highlighted the fact that one whole side of her face was bruised and she was coming up with a nice shiner. "Never thought that elvish stuff could be so durable."

With that she grabbed his wrist and held the hand up as well for all to see. "Never thought rocks could have a grudge." His hand was all scratched up from the beating it took earlier and he quickly pulled it out of her grasp, plunging it over the edge into the water and hissing as it washed away the grit and extra blood.

"Alright Pip, you owe me."

"For what?"

"You said that Avon would win at least one argument tonight and it didn't happen."

"But we didn't bet anything, Merry."

"Well I did so I say you owe me."

The small tiff of the two hobbits broke up most of the remaining tension and Avon couldn't help but snicker, letting Mel know it was all ok and she smiled back at him. It was a strange humour in such a deadly situation, but the feeling of something being lifted off his shoulders was a great relief, even if the voice didn't leave and something was still, as always, nagging at him.

"Hie Avon." A deep voice sounded next to him and the young man turned, knowing who it was and wondering if they were going to talk again. "Catch."

And with that the same coil that hit Mel wrapped itself round his own face and he fell overboard, spluttering and choking on the water while the others laughed softly.

"Boro man, you are gonna pay." He said as he pulled himself back in.

The older man's eyes glittered and he smiled genuinely for the first time in ages. "I look forward to it."

Tbc…

**A/N:** Thankyou to: 

**Anita**, you always brighten my day and your review is quite accurate, it is as bookverse as an AU story can be and I plan to keep it that way. Due to the fact no one really knows what happens to all the minor characters, this makes it even more AU because I may for all you could know, be describing a total lie, something that Tolkien simply did not tell us. Actually, Avon does not have his full sight back; if you refer back a few places within the last chapter you will find he is still having problems. No secrets told, but do keep an eye out for it (pun not really intended)

**S'Dae Cambria**, thankyou for reviewing my story, even if it be at chapter 7 which is where (I have the feeling) that you had to stop reading for some important real-life purpose. I hope you find what follows to be quite interesting and fun…hope to hear from you again.

**Tareaeldaiel**, aye, I thankye for a lovely little review. I'm glad you did not think it was too rushed, that was my greatest fear because the following chapter was to be so sloooooow. As you have probably already figured out, Boromir's major problem has been addressed in this chapter, though there are still plenty of answered questions and they will not be answered all at once. There is something up for Mel in the following chapters, her weaknesses are being more exposed now and it's obvious she is not liking this exposure…unlike what many may think about her being composed and calm, totally in control and knowing just what needs to be done…she is no natural leader. Preferably she would like to see things that happen, be in the thick of it so called, but at the exact same time, she is still a scared little girl who misses her family and is increasingly desiring to just go home. Though yes, she has sort of bound herself here, she is also torn between the two conflicting desires and these are played out later…right now it's aaaalll Avon. 

**Darkfeather22**, he he, you seem to always make me laugh. Yes, 100 pages, actually it's over that now so YAY (does a small dance), now…all I need to find is the secret to getting a review count to reach that high…

**Ilwinterhofal**, speechless I see. *smiles* It makes me so happy that I could actually strike awe into somebody, that very rarely happens and I thank you for informing me *bows*.

**Ravens Destiny**, *blinks* right, as you already know I was stunned you jumped my review count in the matter of a day. In answer to all of them I can only say this…wait and see. You already know quite a bit of what is to happen so I shall not be repeating myself here. #4 has indeed been taking over *glares at Raven's Strider and wonders what that man has done to her muse* and he will do an even better bit of work in the next chapter…it's kind of obvious what will happen considering the timeline (anyone here actually read the books? Lol). Thanks.

**Hathor**, what can I say? Your review boosted me quite a bit and the fact that my writing has been described as refreshing is quite a shock to be sure. I have suffered the continual reprimand from family and others that this is a waste of time to be writing something that can never be professionally published. But this lovely compliment just makes me feel like it is all worth it. I hope to be a humanitarian journalist someday as well as a professional writer, though my styles do tend to lean towards teenage self-help and other education related materials. This touch of fantasy can open up a new world to those who need a break every now and then. But onto the case of Mel and Avon, I take many pointers from other fictions about how I can either improve or bring myself up to that level of professionalism…and one thing that has always come up as an important issue, is the factors of the lives of the out-of-Middle Earth OC's. Many want to make their lives as miserable as possible and turn ME into a haven from emotional oppression, others make it a rather nice life but a lousy school or work atmosphere that makes you want to really hurt those who hurt them and these (for some reason) also seem to be the Legomance's haven (never saying I do not enjoy some of them). I tend to be on the upper scale there. Mel's life is a haven at this period of her life; she has the life she wants, a great family who care for her and some choice friends. Avon has also got what he wants, but immersing himself in his engineering teaches him to really appreciate the little things later on when he visits her for the first time in (what I love to call it) the country of dreams…i.e. Holland. But of course, there is a past…this is what shapes a lot of decisions they both make because, as I have experienced first hand, it is very rare for one to escape their past…especially if it has been impressionable. But I didn't want this to be an escape from that, in fact this world is quite a problem for both of them to learn to deal as all they love is now gone, and they haven't even got the clothes on their backs to remind them of it. 

(looks back over this review response and whistles) I think this goes for any other reviewers too…Mel and Avon's past and other mysteries are revealed gradually, I tend to love letting people stew.

**wishiwasanelvengirl**, he he, I love reviews like this because they give me plenty of uncomplicated questions to answer and also let me have a quiet giggle as I think of answers. Avon did indeed get his sight back, but he is having problems still and that "seeing thing" is just one of my other mean mysteries that will be answered in time. I am glad you love it, I suppose that is the intention right? *winks* anyway, yes I am SO glad you noticed the factor of Avon's protective streak and believe me…it gets worse down the track. He loves her yes, there is no denying that but it has developed into a deep platonic love, a type of sibling love that just cannot be explained. As will be fully addressed later, they actually were like brother and sister before they dated, which was one of the main reasons why they broke up…it was too awkward. But now, Mel is fully taken…Avon will not have a chance in heaven to even think of her in 'that way' again, *laughs* but this also makes him so protective, it becomes close to obsessive later down the track *zips her mouth closed and reveals no more*

**Time Jumper**, he he…thankyou for that little boost of esteem there. Yeah, I have been having problems, but hopefully they are going away now before I abandon the very things I have grown to love *hugs fanfiction and her own short novelettes and poems* Here is your long awaited chapter…next one up ASAP, promise oh YES I promise.

**Karone**, aye, I do love that little bit of romance…it does not play a big part but I was starting to worry about how I was going to make this fragile mind and emotional body of Mel's cope with intense grief and all that follows, considering she was inches away from suicide even before they came to Middle Earth. I always adored Arwen's dedication and love to Aragorn and found it absolutely breathtaking…this is my way of representing it through another circumstance. He he, MIA is military lingo for Missing In Action, usually describing a soldier that simply has not been found and they cannot pronounce him as dead just yet. But in this case, Legolas was simply…gone, not dead of course, but in out-of-war situations it very rarely means this. I am VERY glad I made you laugh at that scene; I was in a melancholy state when I wrote it but whenever I looked back, it would make me snicker as well. Ahh, Celeborn and Orophin being golden, now there is a mind twister…it also is explained in more detail later on but I can give you a general summery now. The city of Caras Galadhon always seemed to have an either golden glow about it during day, and silvery at night…but I also place this in context with most elves. Legolas refers to Arwen to be golden as well and this does not necessarily mean she is a natural blond, in fact the hair colour and location has little to do with this. I see Golden as being pure of heart, a precious keeping amongst a people and seeing as there are so few elves left, practically all are referred as this. Uhm, no, that doesn't sum it up really, as I said before, all will be explained…just try to think of Arwen as a Lothlórien descendant and Orophin as a living resident. It's complex, cannot be explained all in one go…sorry. The marriage ceremony, it is actually found in a Tolkien piece of writing, I think it may be found on Google under the Love Life of Elves…Truth, that was how I found it and it has an essay there based on a compilation of all his facts on this complicated and delicate matter. 

He he. And Bastered? Lets just say that was what my British English spell check told me it was to be spelt. Then it decided to change about a month ago *rolls eyes* don't ask…I hate it too. He he

Thankyou to all that reviewed and to all those who read but did not review!! They really help me and I think this is going to be one of those VERY rare times that I will actually reply to them all personally because, as you probably have already figured, I tend to blab. He he. Next chap ASAP I promise!!!!! *ducks from blunt objects being thrown at her* Yes..I am VERY sorry, blame my hypothalamus gland, it was working over time to pump as much hormonal screw ups throughout my body and it just took over. Hmmm, anyway. Review please? The longer, the better…please? *gives her best puppy dog face* would it help to know that I have connections to OB? *hopes he doesn't read this…oh PLEASE don't read this*. He he, anyway…have fun everyone. Ta ta. Vana  


	15. Psychoanalytic Interlude

**Author's Note:** *hangs her head* Please, I have been going through basic Hell ok. Check my journal on my updated Bio Page to see what I mean. Basically this whole thing is completely short…too many plot bunnies and no time. I have a full time job now WITH Night School so you can guess how much time that leaves me to do anything I truly enjoy. Please see Minka for confirmation, I somehow chatted with her for 6 hours last night and didn't write anything in my stories at all…shows how stressed I am. Also, for some self-esteem boostings…can you check out my other fics too? I need more reviews, my family doesn't believe this is worth my time anymore and I'm (frighteningly) starting to agree with them. Am a review junkie remember.

*smiles weakly* so I don't care what you give me…flame me, trash it, totally go into stalk mode…I don't care. I just need to know if people are still reading this. Or this may be the last chapter, and the most irritating cliffy yet. At least for another four years…now if THAT isn't motivation to leave a few words…I don't know what is. Unless you hate it and don't want me to continue at all at which I can perfectly understand, just tell me ok? My new timid self cannot handle the pressure anymore. If you hate it, it's ok, I won't bite…it just gives me incentive to improve it.

**Chapter Summery:** A massive amount of time to think can cause problems.

**Disclaimer:** I own my precious Silmaril stone, the collectors edition of FOTR with the Argonath, a bunch of books about the movies, a bunch of books from Tolkien (including my leather bound copy of LOTR), Bruce Hopkins' autograph on some collectable Middle Earth bar mugs, an elvish miniature helm, a miniature Gandalf's hat, my Mock Ring, a still sealed Tolkien 2003 calendar, a Legolas action figure and about two million posters…and after all this, really…can I afford the characters? All my money is BLOWN people!!! Don't try this without a good job…it can put you in debt forever…like me *hangs her head in shame*.

**Warnings:** Extensive swearing near the end. And at the beginning…well…I'm sorry but I don't sell life insurance if your head explodes from information overdrive. Sorry

****

****

* * * *

****

**CHAP 15: _Psychoanalytic Interlude_**

"I miss mum." Mel slumped forward in the boat with her head hanging low, the residue of the previous sobbing attack from the dream still shaking her figure. Avon rubbed her back soothingly as they floated fast downstream with the others, he wanted to help more but this was as good as he could do. "I mean, why did it have to happen? Why couldn't have someone just called sooner…stupid gawkers did nothing, absolutely nothing." She trailed off and her shoulders heaved with suppressed sobs, he knew it would only be a few moments more and then it would seem like the nightmare she just woke up from never happened and she had never let herself cry…he really hated that.

"It's okay, everything is okay…you're here now and she is somewhere better. All is good, Mel. Nothing to worry about." She gave a small snort of disbelief at this and he couldn't help but agree. Sure, things were alright in a general sense. 

They were alive, Mel had a beau waiting for her and Avon had a possible future in some sense of which he was still trying to figure out, 6 years of extensive engineering studies and physics surely had some place here. But in the literal sense, nothing was right, everything was wrong. 

They were heading into a dark hole of nothingness, the complete uncertainty or whether they would even live to do the things they were hoping to accomplish…the trepidation and constant terror that gnawed at them day by day…nothing was right, it was terribly terribly wrong.

"You know, I used to always dream about coming to a place where I could live out the fantasy, the magic of everything and just feel the wonder." Mel ran her hands over the edge of the boat and let one arm dangle over the side to trail in the water. "I wanted magic to exist so badly I would go into cursing fits and simply degrade everything about our world, the politics and foundations, even the very nature. It just wasn't there, there was NO magic and I could just never accept it." She turned around to look at him and Avon saw that her eyes had already dried up and all that was left was the deep sadness he had grown to recognize. "But I never wanted this, I never wanted my family to possibly think I'm dead, never wanted to have to stay here forever even though it is magical…I didn't even want to find love here. But it's happened, it's all just happened and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it."

Avon smiled sadly. "Mel, I would be lying if I said I felt the same because I don't." She stared at him now with a quizzical look on her face. He continued. "But the thing for me is that I didn't even think about magic, a world of science, facts and proof was my world. No room for anything else at all and…well…I wasn't even that religious you know." He looked down and focussed on keeping the boat straight in the narrow and swift ravine. He didn't really want to see her accusing eyes for blatantly admitting that he never put his whole heart and soul into something that she did, and yet say he did all the time, basically living a lie. "I hate this too, but I really don't know another way of seeing it, like you do." He waited now, just waiting for his 'sister' to either reprimand him or to simply revert to slapping him upside the head and going silent for two days…the alternative surprised him.

"I don't blame you…it's a suckass world, too many facts." Her light tone made him look up and he caught the slight humour on her face. "Besides, if my theory proves correct, even our unproven facts could be false." She smiled slightly here and turned to look back to the front, leaving him to dwell again over things and generally keep his mind from wandering too far into the now dangerous realm of abandon…it was where Ken dwelled, and where he could control.

Our unproven facts to be false. He knew her theory and had also been thinking about it a lot whenever he felt he had a bit of quiet time. Frodo was far ahead in the front boat and this gave him a little respite from the voice and dulled it a bit, so he could at least think with his own thoughts without too much interruption. For some reason he wondered how Boromir was holding out, and the elf, seeing as they were much closer to that damned demonic twisted band of pure evil. But back to the thoughts, Mel's theory had been that Middle Earth was not another realm or dimension, not even somehow concealed within the pages of a book or even for that matter, made up at all by a single man. What she believed, was that when Tolkien had mentioned that it was a place before time, before his and Mel's recorded history, there was a gap in time in which Middle Earth had indeed flourished and where magic did exist. The thought she had was that when the ring was destroyed and the elves departed for men to take over, the magic finally left forever and an unnoticed blind was pulled over history. Books simply became lost; architecture was destroyed and built anew with so many none the wiser for what was lost in the building of the previous structures. Dwarves, Hobbits and other mythological creatures simply dwindled into extinction under the crush of man and were forgotten. Skills drifted away and cultures practically regressed into (what could be a comparison to this world) a type of millennia long dark age. 

To his own modern points of view, the Egyptians were a high class ancient culture that was incredibly advanced for it's time. The Greeks were astounding masters of lore for a people that had basically, on the dramatic timescale of Mankind, just walked out from the caves. The Chinese were engineering marvels as were the Romans in the arts of war…to his culture, they were ahead of their time. But to this world, to the world he now lived in, they were dust. In fact they were barely dragging themselves out of the mud that the human race had sunk into when they lost the long-lived wisdom and hindsight of the immortal people. In comparison to all that, Middle Earth was where travelling to the moon would have become possible within only a few hundred more years if the right minds existed at the time, instead of the thousands it really took after all was forgotten and man became a withering slushpool of seemingly endless inability to progress past it's own arrogance and the self-proclaimed title of the rulers of the world…when in reality, they knew nothing.

This depressed Avon to no small extent and he wondered what it had done to Mel, considering she had worked it all through in her head long prior to telling him and had also probably come up with a few more ideas even now. But knowing her, she probably wasn't too bothered…her lack of faith in the human race was quite distinct and had earned her the sharp bite of many a prominent critic. But of course, some intelligent newspapers saw her real talent and had used it to the full, possibly alienating her a bit more from the powerful citizens of society but earning the respect of the little people, even if she was only telling the truth.

Now, as it all came down to the crunch…he realized what she had meant about unproven facts. If this was indeed a past long gone, if these elves truly had existed and probably still did in his far future (if in another type of existence), if all those powerful beings he had learned about from the others that had created this world were absolutely true and had even been witnessed by people such as his lovely Lady…then most of the world he came from was living on a lie of false beliefs in a false deity, or at least learning in the wrong way. It scared him to no end. He had stopped praying, had stopped sneaking away on Sundays. He had even stopped thinking about what his mother would think of him if he ever could return and she found out. In fact, he had simply stopped caring. If it were possible, it actually felt good to finally know something, to really know it was true and have real solid evidence surrounding it instead of long dead memoirs and hopeful dreams…no matter how well they had shaped his life.

For a person like Mel, who practically lived it though…he had no idea how it would affect her and he dared not even think of the consequences of everything she believed in suddenly being turned upside-down and inside-out.

'_You're thinking too much._' Ken was back, and that meant Aragorn was slowing down for the rest to catch up.

"I know. Is that a crime all of a sudden?" Avon steered the boat carefully and watched Mel do the same, evening them out nicely so they cut a straight line.

'_No, but do you want it to be?_'

"Bloody heck no."

'_Then why even mention the word if you do not wish for it to be so?_'

"Why are you interrogating me?"

'_It is my duty, my friend. The very reason for my existence is to interrogate one to find out as much as I can, with as little resistance as possible._'

"Hah, well you sure are failing there, buddy…I'm possibly the most resistant person there is."

'_Ah, but that is where you are wrong. There are others here who hold so much more resistance, otherwise they would all be able to hear me and none could escape._'

"Are you threatening me now?"

'_No, merely stating the facts._'

Avon suppressed the shudder working down his spine. He hated Ken so much it was no joke, no one but Mel knew he could actually hear the Ring and the fact that it was not merely just giving him temptation, it was driving him insane. But she didn't know just what a conniving sneak the voice had become, wheedling it's way into his very mind, the place where He existed and almost breaching the point of control. It took effort and a lot of patience he simply did not have to hold it at bay and keep himself to himself, if he lost that control…he hated to think what would happen.

"Behold the Argonath, the Pillars of the Kings!"

Avon looked over to Aragorn, who had probably drawn them all closer just for this little announcement. It wasn't like he hated the man, or that certain dark haired hobbit sitting in front of him with his ever so faithful companion…he was just irritated that he now had to come in such close proximity to the Demon Ring just for…holy shit.

He stared in awe at the mammoths of stone towering far above them. Though they were still a fair way away from the ravine that travelled down in-between them, the statues, that by all engineering logic shouldn't even be standing, were beyond comprehension in their immensity. As he gaped quite unceremoniously at the structures, he noticed that it was almost like they were carved out just yesterday. From his ant-like perspective, all the edges were clean-cut and smooth, giving one the impression of realism and real fear of what could happen if (by some outrageous fluke) those statues of ancient kings would come to life. But he knew that they were old, so old as to even be competing with their company elf. This notion was staggering and he lowered his head, realising now just how small he really was in the world and the desperate situation he and Mel had landed in.

This motion of lowering his vision after staring into the dizzy heights for an extended period of time lead to a severe bout of vertigo, forcing him to lean heavily on his knees and breathe deeply to calm his stomach and eyes. 

His eyes.

Avon swallowed to get rid of the dizzy nausea and quickly started scrabbling around in his pack. The current was taking them into the narrow gully between the statues was increasing in speed, Aragorn had made them separate again to a considerable distance from each other to make sure the boats didn't collide during the race that the current would put them through in the passage. It made him feel a little better, now that Ken was a mere whisper again. But if it wasn't one thing, it was another…now his eyes were playing up again and his herb pouch was conveniently misplaced, perfect.

The after-effects of the poison from Moria had continued to linger even after it had been flushed from his system. The damage to his eyes and, if he thought back to basic 12th year Human biology, mainly his retinas, was basically permanent and this had forced him to rely on the bitter herb gifted by the Galadhrim, the directions of use being delivered by the fair Galadriel herself.

He sighed as he found the pouch and pulled out the small and odd shaped leaf, popping it into his mouth and chewing on it thoughtfully. He hated such dependency, and the fact that if he didn't take the stuff he would be reduced down to a milky haze of sight again…and he definitely did not want that. Galadriel was the one bright thing he now held onto, the memory of the silver woods was something he knew would stay with him forever, but it had only intensified the feeling of loss when they had left and he had looked back, seeing a figure dressed in blinding white for the last time before they had rounded that curve and entered the last real stretch of the rest of his life. How much more of this could he take before he finally snapped under the pressure? How long could he hold up those fragile barriers of his sanity and keep himself from doing something he may regret?

Frodo's face had been plaguing him consistently, fifty years old and still looking like a cherubic angel…a rather drawn and depressed angel, but one nonetheless. Such helplessness, and his seeming innocence was the only thing keeping Avon from snapping the chain from his neck and throwing the Ring into the deepest part of the river to stop it from driving him to complete and utter madness. He knew the hobbit was far from innocent though, enough had happened to him to prove that. He wondered what life had been like for the little guy before all of this mess, before…timing it right, it would have almost coincided with his own partial loss when he came to this world and it made the man feel a little different, like he actually could connect with Frodo in way. It was strange, but worth thinking about.

As they steered carefully between the statues and were, quite un-gently, shot out the other side by the ferocious current, a picturesque landscape spread out before them with trees lining either side densely…and the waterfall dead ahead. This sight made Avon freeze, he knew that there was only one waterfall on this river by the maps he had studied and what the older and more experienced travellers had told him, and he knew that it had been made their designated deciding point…it was here that fate was going to take a huge hand and decide his future from then on.

"Oh!" Mel's small squeak drew his attention to her and he prodded her lightly between the shoulder blades.

"What's up?"

She looked back at him, a little startled. "Oh…um, nothing. Just a bit overwhelmed." She blinked at him and went back to studying the shoreline as they paddled along, but that didn't fool him.

Avon had noticed the flicker of insecurity and decided fear amongst that 'overwhelming' look she had tried to pull off…and it hadn't fooled him one bit.

"No, Mel. What is wrong?" He took her gently by the elbow but was unprepared for the reaction.

She viciously shrugged him off and turned again, glaring at him hard. "I said it was _nothing_!" She hissed, eyes blazing and more fear then ever showing through under the extreme anger. "So," she continued, grabbing her paddle firmly, "I suggest you just leave it alone ok!"

Avon hadn't been expecting this outburst and he had jerked back, more than a little shocked and hurt by it. This hurt then manifested itself into his newly acquired telltale irrational anger and he snapped back. 

"It's so not nothing, Mel! I know you know something, it's been like this for weeks and I want to know what it is…now!"

He was glad the others were too far away to really take notice of their argument, their duel moodswings had become such a common occurrence anyway that even if they did notice, they would have politely ignored them until it was over and they made up like usual. But for Avon now, Mel had gone too far. She was hiding things from him, and in this situation that was the worst thing she could probably do to their close-knit friendship.

She looked like she was gritting her teeth. "Please…just leave it ok. Just at least wait until we stop again and work things out."

"Mel…" He warned, his eye twitching madly.

"Avon just shut up a minute!" She turned quickly in the boat and stared at him firmly. "I want to tell you what I know but I can't…you…you'll…" she trailed off and slowly looked over to where the other boats were. As he followed her gaze, it seemed like she was looking straight at Boromir…who was looking straight back. 

Was it just him, or had that man heard everything? His boat was close enough, he knew his hearing was definitely sharp enough after spending so much time in the wild with him so it seemed almost logical, and this may mean he was up for some serious interrogating later.

"I'll what, Mel?" he asked, keeping an eye on his other close friend.

She sighed and shook her head. "You'll kill me for telling you…trust that at least. Please!" She added, giving him her darn puppy dog look. Dammit!

"Fine, fine…I'll play along with your friggen game." He rolled his eyes and went back to paddling. //But I won't stop asking//. He added the thought on the side, wondering if he was finally able to think by himself a bit now or that Ken was fiddling around up there again.

'_Think by yourself? Ha, what a laugh!'_ Ken chuckled coldly.

He was going mad.

* * * *

"Avon?" a soft voice pulled the man out of the almost meditative state he had fallen into while waiting for Frodo to make up his mind. The hobbit had only wandered off a few minutes before, and they were all kind of keeping quiet and still, probably thinking the same as him.

"Merry, do you have anymore of that lembas? I'm really hungry."

"Oh hush Pippin…and yes I do and it's _mine_, so no touching."

Or maybe not.

"Yes, Boro man?" Avon looked up at the stocky man above him and shuffled over to give him space to sit.

Boromir sat down as bid and sighed, drawing his fingers through his hair. "We have to talk."

"Again?" Avon raised his eyebrows; the memory of the last 'talk' they had that had almost destroyed them was still fresh.

"Yes," the older man groaned in frustration, "again." He looked up at him and tried to speak, but the words seemed to be catching in his throat and Avon handed him his own water skin, the man taking it and drinking liberally before handing it back to him. He then just seemed to stare at Avon for a while, just staring and nothing more and this was more than slightly unnerving for the younger man.

He finally broke the building tension.

"Boromir, what?"

"Nothing."

Avon blinked.

"What do you mean, 'nothing'?

The older man shook his head and broke eye contact, looking at the three remaining hobbits huddled together, all of which were now quiet and pensive. The whole Fellowship now, minus Frodo, were trying hard to keep their minds and bodies busy and it was failing miserably. Gimli's almost obsessive care for his weapons had finally died down until he was merely turning the handle of his axe as he leaned on it wearily; the days in the boats were even taking their toll on his study frame. Aragorn was pacing by the bank restlessly, his obvious nervousness wasn't doing anything to help Avon's own sense of well-being and Legolas was simply busying himself with scouting the area with his keen eyes and ears. Mel had become taken with almost lecturing the hobbits, like she was giving them advice of sorts that he simply could not catch with his ears.

"I know that your sister suspects something." Boromir spoke quietly. "She is a seer of a kind, or it is just seemingly possible that what rumours have been spreading around the company are true."

Avon looked at him sharply. "Rumours?"

"Aye…that you are both not from this world and already know what is to happen in this quest."

The younger man froze, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at Boromir in unconcealed horror. It was all the other man needed and he sighed.

"So it is true then, you are not part of Middle Earth and Mel knows of my demise. It all makes sense now, when you 'knew' something was to happen and you desired to accompany me to Imladris, Mel's stubbornness when she wanted to be a 'tag-along' with Aragorn and the little ones. Then there was the little things, the mittens while going up the mountain, the doors of Moria opening on command, the premonitions you two seemed to have within the mines…From the glances she throws at me now, our doom and my own death that is sooner, rather than later, is the only plausible outcome to this fateful mission." He sighed. "If only the Ring could come the Minas Tirith and my father, then it might…"

"NO!" Avon's shout raised the whole company and they gazed at him warily. 

After gaping in silence for the whole time Boromir had been talking, shocked to the core at what he was saying, he simply could not take it anymore and had jumped to his feet. He was shaking and a wild look was in his eyes before he blinked and looked at the rest of them. "I…I have to go." He muttered before dashing off into the tree line and ignoring the shouts from behind to come back. 

Then Aragorn's rose above the others.

"Let him go…I feel that he needs time to think and…" the rest was lost as Avon crashed through the undergrowth, unheeding of the numerous scratches and tears the branches made on his clothing until he finally started slowing down and leaned heavily on the smooth trunk of a tall slender Birchwood.

How could he forget? How could the very reason he had even bothered to come on the quest, to follow Boromir, to bloody need to keep close to him all the time be lost to him? How could he not know, and how did Mel manage to know? He frowned and ran a heavy hand through his hair, no longer caring for how oily and raggedy it was or how dirty the scalp felt beneath it. He had long gone past the time of caring, now it was almost as though he had always been like this and the memory of warm baths and luxuries was just that, a memory.

When the older man had mentioned his death, it seemed like a floodgate had opened and an influx of memories came forth. Just disjointed ones though, he couldn't grasp the whole picture and he knew this was for the same reason as why he couldn't truthfully remembered things that came thereafter. He knew of one battle, big and bloody and it had actually been a morbid fascination that had made that one memory of the movie become entrenched. 

But he had forgotten who survived, and he had forgotten the books.

"Dammit!" he hissed as he punched the tree, just trying to get his self control back so he could face them all again. He knew Boromir had died, Chloe had burst into tears and wouldn't shut up about it after they had exited the theatres that time, Mel had continually displayed the same sort of sorrow even after watching it endlessly. Boromir was going to die, the man who had become like a big brother to him…he couldn't let it happen.

"Avon." The soft lilting voice drew him back from wherever his mind had gone and he looked up, straight into the old dark blue eyes of the elf. "Avon," he continued, "what troubles you?" 

There was silence for a moment before the man sighed, slumping against the tree for support.

"You know exactly what the problem is…you heard every word."

"Yes, I did." Said Legolas matter-of-factly and Avon nodded.

"Thought you would. Damn elves." He muttered and started a slow walk deeper into the woods, leaving the elf behind where he stood. "What do you thi…" He hadn't expected the elf the come after him, and wasn't surprised when he turned around a saw nothing there…he had simply vanished into the woods like he always did.

He waited for a while longer before sighing and turning around, only to collide with a figure suddenly standing before him mere seconds later. A person who had that continual sad look in her grey eyes, and the look now being enhanced with worry. "What the fu…Mel!"

"Avon!" she quipped back and smiled a little. "Aren't you coming back? Legolas told me I'd find you somewhere round here."

He sighed again. "I can't, I don't know if I can just stand by and watch it happen, Mel. I can't watch him die for the greater good…it's just not in my nature."

'_Then what is your nature? Wasn't it the desire to care for others?_'

"You remember it all then…"

"Yes, just about everything up till then."

'_And more, she knows more…she is hiding things from you. More is coming…you must know all._'

"So…what are you going to do about it?"

'_Yes that's right, you are going to be the coward you have always been and let him die. Why not do something else then, you know what it is that starts this ball rolling, get rid of It before It destroys him. Once you have It you can keep It from his reach and all will be saved, maybe even contr…_'

"Von?" Mel reached up her hand as if to touch his face and he recoiled, startled that he had let himself listen to Ken long enough for her to become concerned.

"I'm ok…it's all good. We'll get through this like we always have right? I mean, things can be changed can't they? It won't make such a big difference right? Maybe he can be saved dammit, Mel!" He felt frantic, probably looked it too. She was trying to touch his face again and the look in her eyes told him everything, she was disagreeing totally. "Why can't we, huh?? Why does my friend have to die? He's like a brother to me, Mel. I don't have fucking family to look out for me! I don't have brothers and sister…damn I don't even have parents anymore!! At least you still have your freaken Elf! Why? WHY does the only person that kept me alive have to die in return?? I can't just let it happen…fuck I don't care anymore. Why are we here huh? Why can't I just save him then leave…I want to go home, I always have, the longing in me dammit it never goes away and it drives me mad!!" he started pacing. "Legolas still gets the headaches you know, he gets them more times than you know but he never bothers with telling everyone coz of his damn immortal freaken pride! I HATE it!! I can't stand the voices anymore…didn't they drive Boromir mad? Didn't the Ring take control? Shit! What am I supposed to do? I know what he is going through almost to the letter and if he is feeling the same as me and that poncy elf, then I am next to helpless…I HAVE to help him though! Have to…God why can't I help him?" 

She hesitated, before putting a hand on his shoulder. "Because we aren't meant to be here…"

"Fuck I KNOW that!" He pulled away and leaned heavily against the tree once more and whispered. "I know that."

'_Control the future. Control it all…or do I have to give a little helping hand here?_'

"Leave me alone." He muttered and stared at the ground.

There was only the breeze in the trees for a moment.

"Avon…"

"No! You bugger off back to your liddle hobbitsins and do your liddle prep talk!!" he fumed. "Bugger OFF!!" He glared up at her and she stepped back in fear. He could only imagine what a picture he was making and it was on the tip of his tongue to say something else, when she abruptly turned tail and ran back in the direction of the camp.

There was more silence for a short while as he simply stood there, watching the way she had left with detatched concern. Maybe he had gone a bit too far this time.

'_No…you are merely seeing the truth and solution._'

"Oh…and what is that, may I ask?" He grumbled as he stalked further into the woods, cursing every little thing he came across from a small root, to an annoying chirping bird.

'_That you can change things for the better and that Boromir can be saved…if you only take the Ring_'

The man stopped and leaned heavily on his foot to test how it's strength was improving. It was almost normal now.

"Yeah I know all that, but then what?"

There was silence from Ken for a moment, before…

'_I can show you_.'

Now this was interesting. Avon perked his ears to the voice that was steadily growing louder the more he walked. Ken may have had something here.

A small chuckle from the voice.

'_Too bad you won't remember it._'

"Wha…?"

Avon's exclamation of surprise was cut off by a sudden searing pain through his skull, and he choked on a scream. The last thing he saw before the familiar blackness encased him was a small shape moving in and out of the trees in front, with dark curly hair and his hand clasped protectively against his chest.

No…it couldn't be…not like this…not him

Tbc…

* * * *

Pffft, what a silly way to end a chapter…but I couldn't take it anymore, I HAD to post it. Look, I am still fixing up all my other chapters. For instance, Elrond's Council just plain sucked and the same with most other things…I can not stand them any longer and they MUST be changed.  
Review please? I am fully appreciative of all those reviews I am getting…it means more to me than you will ever possibly grasp. If you remember what I said up the top there…I need a boost. On my other stories too...Pippin the Fruit got updated you know, first time in 8 ruddy months!! Crazy…but true. Lets hope I can do better than that…more reviews for this junkie means the chapters come out faster. Trust me, 5 measly reviews and I'll be writing like a maniac…more and I'll post even faster. *smiles weakly* please?

Thankyou

Tata


	16. Incomplete Absolution

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**Authors Note:** Finally this story has been taken off Hiatus and now we can get back to our regularly scheduled programming. I know I have lost a great amount of readers since September last year, but believe me when I say it could not be helped. Hopefully people will start reading this again and will review to tell me how I may improve and where things may be able to be tweaked to make the reading more enjoyable. I keep as close to Tolkien as I possibly can now, even if it may seem quite long-winded. The movies have taken a backseat and now canon reigns where I do not twist it to my own perverse needs. The events that include my two OC's are always AU and so are much of the events that ensue. But trust me when I say I will never be telling this story as Tolkien told it…what canon there is, is rare. Afterall…who says Legolas must live past the war? Who says Aragorn must take the throne…and who says Denethor was a man twisted in his desire for power. Tolkien did, but I could say otherwise.

**Summery:** A young man is pulled into Middle Earth, and from there on it's a downward spiral.

**Chapter Summery:** Usually…this never happens to a normal person. Magic does not exist. Death…is only inevitable when you let it.

**Warning:** Allusion to sexual connotations and more hints to their dark past. Canon events that take place at the end of FOTR and you will find out just why this chapter was so hard for me to write…insanity is never a comfortable thing to describe for me.

**(Ps: This is a note you must read. You will HAVE to read the first chapter again to understand what happens in this one. I had to add things in there as I came up against a brick wall in this one when I realized I had forgotten to place that small but important little set of lyrics in the first chapter. Actually…I have been rehashing the whole story, only the first chapter is important but small spelling errors and little nuances have been fixed and touched up in others. Heh. I'm a picky prick)**

**

* * *

**

**CHAP 16:_ Incomplete Absolution_**

_'I can deny it ever happened.'_

_'But it did happen.'_

_'Maybe, but do I have to remember?'_

_'No, you do not.'_

_'Then why do I?'_

_'Because it was unforgivable. You were weak.'_

_'I am weak.'_

_'Weak.'_

_'Selfish, helpless…'_

_'Not meant to be here, you caused it.'_

_'I am the reason it all happened.'_

_'You were the only reason.'_

_'I am dead.'_

_'Not yet, but soon.'_

_'They will kill me.'_

_'Without a doubt. You caused it.'_

_'I want it to be soon then, I don't want to stay here any longer.'_

_'You won't have to, it is already happening.'_

_'It is?'_

_'Yes…can you not feel it?'_

_'I…'_

_'Yes, it will all be over soon. Don't fight it.'_

_'I…won't.'_

_'Shh, just relax.'_

_'I won't…fight.'_

"Don't make me do this Avon!"

_'Who was that?'_

_'It was nothing.'_

"Snap out of it!!"

_'That was something.'_

_'Trust me when I say it is nothing.'_

_'It is something.'_

_'No it isn't.'_

_'Let me out.'_

_'No, you deserve to stay here.'_

_'It's so dark, I want to get out…let me out NOW!'_

_'You won't like it.'_

_'What's going on?'_

_'You are dying.'_

_'No I'm not!'_

_'Yes you are, open your eyes and see.'_

_'They're closed?'_

_'No, but your mind is. Open it.'_

_'Who are you? Ken?'_

_"No, Ken is gone…I am you.'_

_'Oh crap not you again.'_

_'You are doing this to yourself, you are to blame. Just say the word and I am gone again.'_

_'You know, I didn't need two years of therapy to tell me that.'_

_'But it took two years for me to go.'_

_'I know…so I just open my eyes?'_

_'IN your mind, yes.'_

_'You're just as confusing as before.'_

_'Avon, you are too confusing for words…your comment is an insult to yourself.'_

_'Leave me alone.'_

_'Open up.'_

_'I am…'_

........

His eyes blinked at the harsh light above him. Confusion washed over him as he found himself laying flat on his back, unable to move and feeling sore and uncomfortable in places that he knew were not injured before. Then, as his vision cleared a little more and he tried to take a deep breath…he found he couldn't.

Gasping and struggling he quickly realized he was being restrained by someone. That person had literally draped their whole body over him to keep him from moving and, when he tried to breathe again, he found they were actually strangling him.

Oh God no.

Avon's eyes went wide as he started to really panic and thrash, trying to throw that heavy body off him while he scrabbled at the strong hands frantically with his fingers. He couldn't loosen the grip and his newly found vision was slowly dimming yet again.

So this is what it meant when it said I was dying.

He tried once more to desperately pull air into his lungs before looking up into the face of his attacker, and froze.

Boromir?

The man's face was one of anguish, horror and yet complete resignation at what he was doing and about to do. He was killing Avon and bloody well knew it, and yet the young man beneath him had absolutely no idea why.

Avon stared up at him in complete and utter panic as his chest ached with fire at being denied the precious oxygen it so desired and needed and gathered his strength for a final kick. He did so and then went limp…his energy leaving him completely and in less than seconds he could only turn his head slightly, gazing dimly to his right and at a violently shaking figure huddled by a darkening tree that became darker by every slowing beat of his heart.

Mel, he mouthed silently, letting his eyes close and himself sink into the abyss that was his fate, still wondering how ironic his little voice had allowed him at least one more glimpse at the world before he died. So this was how it ended…this was what it all came down to. This is what…

The weight atop him was suddenly gone and he dared to blink away the dots dancing in front of his eyes before closing them again. There was no air returning to him though and amazingly he was not too panicked by it. His body had shut down and the pillow of comfort and warmth was enveloping his mind and body. He no longer needed the air, no longer desired it. Even as he thought these last few things a muffled scuffled was heard by him, disjointed sounds and movement was heard and felt through the leaf-carpeted ground until one voice screamed his name…and he knew no more.

......

"That's it Avon, breath…breath for us. Come on you can do this." The voice said, tearing through his mind and body as the pain of drawing air into his starved lungs burned like an inferno. The rasping and wheezing that echoed in his ears sounded distant and not a part of him, even though he knew full well that he himself was making them in his drastic bodily plea for ever more breath to be drawn.

"He's going to make it."

"With those bruises? Damn you man you could of killed him!"

A sigh. "Yes…I could have."

Then silence…from the outside at least. Inside his heart was pounding loud enough for anyone else to hear and his breath was still harsh and grating to his ears. Apart from those few sentences spoken by the two all he could focus on was the pain and thrill running through his blood at escaping death by seconds…he would swear by his mothers name for long afterwards that he saw a familiar face in that void of darkness, and he knew it wasn't anyone he knew or had known in his physical life. It scared and excited him at the same time that he had almost died, but he knew that he was no longer really afraid of it anymore. The process maybe, but not of the event itself…he knew now that suffocation was to be his worst fear forever after though.

He coughed and now a hand was on his face, stroking his cheek gently.

"Come on now, open your eyes…we need to get moving. Avon…hun…wake up. Please…"

Oh now there was something he couldn't ignore, Mel slipping into her old English dialect was enough to force his eyes to crack open and study her. Surprisingly the sunlight did little to mar his vision as one would think if they had been unconscious for so long as he had…and how long was that?

"How…long?" He croaked, wincing as the action of talking scratched his damaged throat.

"An hour, or more…it seems longer." She continued stroking his cheek but immediately pulled back when he raised a hand to her shoulder.

"Mel?"

His confused whisper was answered by another voice, the owner taking the place of Mel in his vision as she got up to stand a few paces away.

"She is frightened of you. You did hurt her and for that I am still wondering why I didn't kill you. Propriety does not seem to be your greatest asset my "friend"." Boromir's cold expression only confused him even more and he tried sitting up, only to slump back down again as dizziness washed over him and nausea threatened to make the older man's clothes a brand new colour.

"What?"

"You heard me correctly…I thought you to be a trusted and valued member of this company, not to mention my friend and much loved companion." The man almost seemed to gnash his teeth at the last part. Avon had never seen anyone actually do that before so it plainly distracted him for a bit until the tense voice drew him back into reality. "Though it seems I was not the only one to be mistaken and it is only because of your sister here that I do not end your pathetic life where I stand…at the moment, your helplessness is most inviting for my sword but I do not want to be on her bad side so…" He trailed off almost nonchalantly, seemingly oblivious to the mounting shock and pain imprinting itself gradually on Avon's face as the words registered in his sluggish mind.

"I did _what_??"

"You hurt me, Von," her soft voice called but she didn't come closer. "You really…hurt me."

She was still shaking, maybe not quite and hard as before he lost consciousness but still, she was shaking and he had caused it. But how?

"I don't understand." He simply said, flicking his eyes between the two, one with hate and hurt filled eyes while the other simply looked crushed and sorrowful. How the hell did he cause this?

Boromir's eyes hardened even more. "How dare you feign innocence! What you did is inexcusable and may the powers forgive me if I go against Mel's wishes right now and run you through." He growled and Avon felt his heart clench painfully, yet he was still utterly confused.

"No, really…I don't understand. What are you two talking about? One minute I'm walking along and then you are choking me and…why?"

The reaction of the other two was one of complete shock.

"You really don't remember?" Mel asked, moving forward a little and tilting her head as if to study him even further than she already was. It was about then that he noticed the spreading bruise covering the left side of her face, the fresh blueness covering the yellow that remained after the rope incident on the river, and the way she seemed to favour her right arm a little.

"I don't bloody remember anything and dammit, Mel…what happened to you?"

She flinched and drew back. "You know what happened."

"No I bloody don't!" He rasped, putting more force behind his words as he struggled to raise himself, but his chest and neck protested and he simply flopped down again.

"Vaiyo A-O, A Home Ya Ya Ray…" Her soft lilting tune broke through his muddled thoughts and he stared at her, not even hesitating as he joined to harmonise with the next line.

"Vaiyo A-Rah, Jerhume Brunnen G."

They both just stared at each other in the mounting silence before she threw herself at him and held him tight around his shoulders.

"I knew it wasn't you…I knew you couldn't do any of that. Boromir wanted to believe you were still ok but then you hit me and he just snapped. I knew it wasn't you, I knew it I knew it…" She hid her face in his shoulder and he simply stared dumbly.

"I hit you?"

She nodded into his jerkin and raised her head. "You attacked Frodo too."

There was another one of those moments of silences where the wind seems to blow eerily and not a sound could be heard, until Avon let himself fall back and stare up at the sky.

"Fuck."

Mel only nodded, then turned to Boromir. "You ok?"

"Yes, though…though the temptation nearly tore me in two."

"It's ok, it's gone now."

"Yes…but where?"

"To Mordor." She answered without hesitation, ignoring the questioning looks from both men even though the questions in their minds were of different natures. Avon's being that he was wondering why she was revealing things now, and Boromir's of more innocent nature, such as how did she know this and was she really the seer the group had suspected her to be.

"I want to know what happened." The younger man spoke quietly and the other two shared a look.

"You really want to know?"

"Yes…everything."

Boromir studied him for a moment, his eyes still wary.

"Everything?"

"Give me what you got."

......

The whole group was silent once more, considering the young man's departure was less than reassuring it was obvious the tension in the company was not caused just by waiting for Frodo to make up his mind. For any person to act as irrationally as Avon had, it was cause for worry.

It didn't seem like long though before Boromir felt a presence behind him and turned, spotting Samson creeping around the trees and trying to catch his eye. When she did, she held up one hand and crooked a finger, indicating that she wanted him to follow her, and do it quietly. Taking care not to make his disappearance too noticeable, the man waited till a distraction occurred, namely in Sam's backpack splitting and all the contents tumbling out onto the grass to shatter the painful silence. And with that, he melted into the woods.

"I need you to talk to Avon." She said, as they made their way deeper into the trees.

He quirked a brow. "You think he would listen to me? So far, he has done all he can to avoid having any type of decent conversation."

The girl stopped for a moment and rubbed her face.

"Look, I don't know what it is exactly, but this is…it's terrifying." She looked up and stared at him, sorrow etched in the depths of her eyes. "He's changed. It's like he isn't my best…brother…anymore." She bit her lip and Boromir simply smiled and gripped her shoulder as they started walking again.

"I know you are not siblings," he winked as she looked at him in surprise. "Really, milady…you are both too different in looks and personality to be anything more than friends."

"What??" She gasped and pulled away, staring at him in horror. "You knew? You knew I was…that we had been…I mean…"

"That you are female?" She nodded hard and he squinted at her. "Mel, I have known since the first day of our quest.

You cannot hide certain things from a man who has travelled with soldiers most of his life and the needs…erm…requirements of…you understand? I am actually still confused why Aragorn was so clueless."

She couldn't help but laugh at his helpless expression, her own shock slipping from her shoulders in relief that he wasn't going to extradite her.

"Bodily functions, yes I know. Men don't need bushes."

She left it at that and moved ahead of the now rather red and flushing man before stopping, frowning as she checked her surroundings.

"What's wrong?" Boromir asked.

"I left him here, I don't know where he is anymore…"

"He could have wondered of anywhere."

"Yeah, I know." She started looking for signs of the direction Avon might have gone and Boromir merely stood quietly, letting the girl rummage around in dirt and leaves and getting her hair caught in twigs before he simply marched of in a random direction. Startled, she quickly stood and followed him while tugging bits of flora from her hair and clothes. "Where are you…"

"Shh, listen."

Boromir motioned for them to slow and she complied, stepping gingerly over the bracken carpeting the forest floor and kneeling next to him as he parted some bushes to reveal a scene that turned both their hearts to ice.

Avon was there, or they thought it was Avon. The thundering yet cold and smiling creature looming over the pale hobbit cowering on the ground was nothing like their friend. Yet there he was, standing next to a stone slab with one of his many knives against Frodo's throat, his sword missing from its scabbard and not in any visual range. The little one was positively terrified.

It was Mel's gasp of horror that stilled the man's arm as he drew it back for a fatal blow. But it was the glint of gold dangling from the frozen hobbit's neck that nearly undid everything…Boromir was looking decidedly…flushed.

"So, we have a pair of voyeurs seeking trouble." Avon smirked and leaned up slightly, but still not releasing the hobbit from the dangerous position under his blade. "What do you say, Halfling. Should we let them in on our little game?"

The hobbit merely shook in terror, his mouth opening and closing in an attempt to speak, but no words were coming forth. All he managed to do was stare at the tip of the knife and let his eyes shift hastily between it and the two newcomers.

Mel took a step forward.

"Von…you okay?"

The answer was a gob of spit arching through the air and landing at her feet and she stared at it quietly, before raising her eyes and taking another step.

"Mel…" Boromir was hushed by a small motion of her hand as she took yet another step. Now she was only a few feet away. The hand holding the knife was shaking.

"You have a death wish, bitch?"

The older man watched her flinch at the word but bit his tongue against calling for an apology. Now was not the time for valour.

"Von…"

"He will die and you will be to blame for your interference." The knife pressed up against the underside of Frodo's chin and the small body ceased trembling, suddenly frozen still in pure terror and realization that these could be his last moments alive. Avon clenched his teeth and glared at a spot on the forest floor beyond the hobbit. "If I had never known you, this would not be happening. The fair would not have happened. Holland would not have happened…I would be home…no, he would be home," he looked up and pierced Boromir with his steely gaze, "and I would have you."

The words seemed to hang in the air. No one breathed for the unfolding revelation that this could have indeed been avoided…somehow.

The man of Gondor, son of the Steward Denethor son of the great Ecthelion who ruled his land and city with a hand of iron and withstanding power…a man with war trained into his very veins and strength that could only be compared to the endurance of elves…could not stop the single tear falling down that woman's face as the guilt hit her full in the gut. He could not stop her legs suddenly buckling and falling down to her knees in grief…and he could not stop the choking sob and heartbreaking sounds of "I'm sorry" coming forth from her mouth as she bent her head and wept.

This reaction was not what Avon had expected though. Boromir could see that he was thinking Mel would fly at him in anger, throwing him the perfect excuse to simply slit the Ringbearer's throat and add a gaping smile to his anguished face. But when she simply collapsed, he was caught off guard…and this was what the man knew he could stop and change.

Boromir let out a mighty battle cry, startling the younger man as his eyes went wide and he tried grabbing the Ring in a last desperate try before he cried out and gave up, throwing the small body away as he dived from the older man's grasp, rolling professionally to the side and standing up in one graceful move that had Boromir blinking for a moment. It was so unlike Avon that it was almost as if someone else was inhibiting his body.

'He would be home, and I would have you.'

Those last words that his friend had said repeated themselves in his head, confusing him with unknown meanings. Even as he lunged at the man again, one part of his mind drifted off into pondering the numerous meanings behind those words…and none of them sounded pleasant. One meaning placed forward a possibility that there was another being within Avon right now and that very same being was frustrated it could not possess him. A second meaning was quite more disturbing and he pushed it away hurriedly, not wanting to dwell on such horror that he couldn't possibly see the younger man being capable of. He felt terrible being able go anywhere near that direction of thought, but a life of war and carnage could desensitise and educate any naïve boyling fresh from his mother's apron strings.

They grappled for only a few moments, neither able to grab the upper hand as they seemed to match in strength and skill. The hope that somehow he could drive whatever was possessing his friend out was the only thing ceasing his hands from merely grabbing his head and twisting violently. A move like that would kill him and rid them all of this dilemma. It was the one move he was open to make in such close confines as they rolled and clawed on the leafy ground, and it was the one move he would never make voluntarily. He had to hold that hope, and the Ring certainly knew that.

No matter which way they twisted and flung themselves about, somehow the hobbit remained in the corner of his vision. Frozen in awe-stricken terror, Frodo couldn't tear his eyes from the ripping Fellowship and was entirely ignoring the woman as she even tried picking him up to carry him off. Apparently she had pulled herself together in the melee. The Ring was mocking him.

'Take me take me take me, weakling pathetic fool…' it seemed to chant within his mind. Over and over the words poured temptation through his soul, telling him of the glory of Gondor and how it may be preserved and greatened by a simple band of pure unblemished gold. The words were only a whisper but were irritating him anyhow and distracting him from the fight. He didn't want to hurt Avon but this seemed to be turning into the only outcome. He got distracted enough to forget that the smaller man had many knives and he was definitely going to use them.

"Agh!" Boromir yelled in pain and gripped his arm, the blood welling up between his fingers where the knife had cut deep. Avon merely smiled and grunted as he straddled his chest and dangled the bloodied weapon teasingly point-down above his throat.

The distraction had cost the older man dearly. Avon was certainly not running this fight…Avon would have been nursing bruises and be tied to a tree by now…Avon would never have attacked anyone in the first place…Avon was no longer there.

Mel seemed to have other ideas about which way this fight would turn because suddenly, the weight was off his chest and two bodies were rolling off to the side, involuntarily entwining in the motion. He struggled to stand and winced slightly as he felt some small injuries and cuts that decided to make themselves known right then. For some reason every part of his body bar his face seemed to be bruised. The boy had more hidden strength then he gave him credit for.

Then Frodo was there, right in front of him. The small body simply froze in shock as Boromir locked eyes with him and all time seemed to slow down. The taunting grew momentarily louder as he stepped forward, arm outstretched to merely 'take the Ring' and release the hobbit of his burden. But as the man stepped forward, Frodo snapped out of his trance and vanished. He simply disappeared before him and he could do no more than stand and stare at where the supposedly weak being had been seconds before. Then Avon's voice cut through the haze that had coated his mind and he turned to face him, standing still and trying to quell the rising panic that rose in his chest at the strong man before him.

"Move one more step and she dies!" Of course he had more strength…he had the woman in a death grip about her neck and a knife to her back. If the situation wasn't so dire Boromir would have rubbed his face and groaned. Nothing was going smoothly anymore…nothing.

"Von, please…" Mel stuttered then yelped as her arm was wrenched behind her. The young man simply smiled.

"I am not the one you should be pleading to." He sneered and bent his head down, his mocking eyes never leaving the helpless warrior. But when lips met the skin of the woman's throat in a disguised caress of a lover…she rebelled.

Panicked she threw her head back, arching her back away from the knife and wrenching her arm horribly to pull away. There was no technique in her escape; mere desperation and terror as her eyes flashed and her frightened cries reached Boromir till he could stand still no longer.

Seeing as the thrashing movements of the female had caught him off guard yet again, he barely had time to think and could only strike her across the face once before the battle-hardened bulk of the Gondorian pummelled into him and all three fell to the ground once more. This time Mel was able to roll away, but she did no more apart from huddle at the base of a tree, shaking from shock and fear.

Even when Boromir's hands found their way to Avon's neck, she didn't budge. In fact it was almost like she was accepting his death already…as if he had died long before that moment and now all they were doing was reinforcing that fact…until he said her name.

The quiet whisper she heard and the confused tenderness in his eyes she saw and she reacted once more, pulling the older man away and hoping against hope that the nightmare was finally over.

......

"Avon, you ok hun?"

They were walking in near silence through the woods back to the camp with Avon between the man and woman when Mel asked the almost rhetorical question.

He rubbed his neck once more as he nodded, grimacing at the bruises. But he didn't feel like speaking.

"I would not be surprised if Aragorn has sent out a search party." Boromir filled the awkward silence with a humourless chuckle. "That or come out to kill us himself if the hobbit has made him think it will solve anything."

"Oh you are just the pessimist I always thought you were!" Mel snapped, and he couldn't help but quirk a smile.

"I feel that though you have never said this openly, you have thought me to be a pessimist long before we ever met. If my judgment proves to be correct of course." He was practically mocking her and she was sensing it, but surprisingly not reacting to it.

Avon shrugged and rasped before she got her word in. "You could say we know more than you ever will." And he left it at that. Unfortunately he was coming to realize the future was imminent and the resignation he was becoming so familiar with was almost smothering him. He felt crushing grief at what was to happen that day, and that nagging voice telling him he could still stop it had been replaced by his own conscience. It was simply meant to happen and he could do absolutely nothing about it.

Boromir didn't answer him and he didn't expect him to. The older man already knew within his own heart and Avon didn't have the want to encourage fate. There was also another reason…the air was smelling really off.

"Oh…jeez what is that?" Mel held her hand over her nose, screwing up her face in disgust. The stench wasn't lost on the two men either and all couldn't help but stop walking to control themselves.

Avon wiped his eyes. They were tearing from some sort of acidic rancidness permeating the air about them and he couldn't quite identify which direction it was coming from.

"This way." Boromir…the younger ones trusted his senses more than their own and so they followed him through the dense forest. It had become so thick in the last few minutes that Avon was wondering if they were even heading in the right direction…they hadn't encountered anything like this when he came through from the river.

Suddenly the foliage broke through to a small open meadow and Avon had to hold down the retch that was trying to escape his throat. Mel was not so lucky and both men tried very hard to ignore the sounds of her being sick almost on their shoes…the sight alone would have done it for them anyway.

In front of them was what seemed to be a large discarded bonfire. The remains of a camp ran in a disorganised circle around it but when they got closer, their reluctant curiosity getting the best of them, the men had to literally hop away as the woman threw up the rest of her stomach contents. It was a sight he knew was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

Rising just up to their chests, the still smoking 'bonfire' turned out to be only a small part of wood and other burnable substance. The rest was about a dozen rotting and half-eaten carcasses of wild pig and fowl that has seemingly been merely killed for sport and, if the way the blackened remains looked, were probably still alive when cooked.

Avon spotted an un-burnt piece of flesh near the edge of the pit but regretted investigating it almost immediately as his stomach and mind also rebelled against the image. For the first time since his 'incident', his throat didn't bother him at all and he couldn't even feel the raw tissue complain against the forceful expulsion. All he could see now was the hand; the human hand completely separated from whatever body it had belonged to curled up in frozen rigor mortis. There had been people here…and now they were all dead and carrion.

"What the hell _happened_ here!?" Mel nearly screamed in horror, her blaspheming going completely unnoticed for once, as she knelt on the ground and ignored her own residue before her.

Boromir didn't look much better and he merely gaped. "I…I have absolutely no idea."

"Well for one thing," Avon pushed himself back upright and massaged his throat while whispering hoarsly, "this is freaken nowhere _near_ the camp as we have as elf who can smell fried chicken thirty miles away…unless…" he looked up and studied the flow of the smoke in the wind. It was travelling away from them in the direction they had been walking. "Unless the wind has been taking it away from them and we have been going in the wrong direction the whole bloody time!" He stared at Boromir accusingly and the man held up his hands in defence.

"I was following you. You seemed to have a good idea as to which way to go."

Avon bristled and croaked. "Me? I was bloody following Mel coz I've been kinda not around in the physical world for a bit if you get my drift!"

She was on the defensive almost straight away. "Oh screw you, Von. I was following the only one that actually _lives_ in this world and knows which way is west by merely looking up."

At that sharp comment all eyes looked towards the sky that was conveniently clouded at that time. Boromir obviously couldn't hold his smirk.

"When the weather turns against you, even I cannot…" His smirk dropped and almost straight away the atmosphere in the glade changed as he stiffened. After too long of living in his presence, Avon knew the defensive stance for what it was and switched his senses beyond their immediate surroundings and problematic stench.

The moment he did that he realised they had been gone for just about the exact amount of time allowed for inaction. Mel had refreshed him on the events, revealing the fact she had retained her memory simply because she knew the books far too well, and the event that was happening now far from them was very much well underway.

"We need to go back." Was Boromir's declaration and the sealing of his doom. Poetic jargon to be sure…but Avon felt he had fallen too far into the 'fantasy' world to not use the language in his mind.

It took time. Too much time in Avon's opinion and yet also too little to find their way back to where they had been before. The sounds of clashing swords and guttural calls of creatures best left to stay in the imagination washed over the three and they halted, knowing that the next step will be the first to the end.

He felt so incredibly young at this moment when the warrior turned and looked at him. Twinges of sadness lined his eyes and Avon did something he hadn't allowed himself to do to any man for too many years…apart from the elf of course but that was mere acting. Lunging forward he wrapped his arms around the man he called his brother and hugged him hard, nearly crushing him in an embrace that the other reciprocated with possibly even more fervour.

"When you get in trouble," the man whispered in his ear "do not think, just run. Run as hard and as far as you can and do not look back."

Avon could only mumble into his jerkin as he felt tears gathering in his eyes. He didn't let them fall and watched through blurred vision as his brother ran off through the trees and disappeared within a blink of an eye. He and Mel were now alone…and clueless.

"Do we fight?" Said Mel blankly and he shook his head.

"No, we'd better hide till it's all…over."

She nodded in agreement. "Good idea. Won't die then."

"Yeah…"

It was like they were just going to stand there for the rest of the day and hang about until they were killed until the growling grew closer and they both snapped out of it.

Grabbing her hand, Avon and Mel darted into the trees and both ran as if the hounds of Hell were on their backs, which is basically what they could hear as being as the horrid sounds and growls came closer and closer. They had been spotted. Feeling the first signs of panic coming up into his throat, he quickly dashed to the left, ran for a bit then dashed to the right, zigzagging so erratically that Mel was gasping in pain each time her arm was wrenched from one place to the next.

"Von…please…" She gasped, searching frantically with her eyes for the same thing he was trying to find. A place to hide until all this was over. They would never survive something like this if they were caught; they were expendable. The two Tagalongs had never been written about, for all they knew they could die today or live forever…their lives were aimless and unknown.

"Quick in here!" He leapt over a narrow gully and dropped to the ground, letting go of Mel's hand as he squirmed under the tree roots on his elbows. When he had pushed himself as far back into the hollow trunk as he could he reached out and helped the woman crawl in after him.

The look of horror on her face when she suddenly stopped moving was enough to tell him one thing. She was stuck.

"I can't…the staff." She panted and pushed herself out before trying to squirm in once more but jamming halfway.

He could see how the staff on her back had lodged sideways against the roots, preventing her from going anywhere but back out into the open where danger was.

"Stay still," he ordered "let me get it." He then reached over her and fumbled with the buckle that held the staff. But being in such an awkward position he could only use one hand and even then, it was only the tips of his fingers. Realizing they were running out of time he search his pockets frantically, trying to find at least one of the Lothlórien knives and panicked when he came up empty. He must have used them all up in the fight with Boromir and Frodo, he shuddered at the memory.

Their eyes met in the dim light under the tree and he saw the realization that lit up in hers. The sounds were almost upon them, the tramping feet and grunts of the nightmares. He tried blaming himself in retrospect about climbing in first. All his equipment had stayed clear of any snagging roots and if she had gone first he would have been able to relieve her of the weapon he now wished they never had. But her hand cupping his cheek and the sincere look in her eyes ceased his self-cursing and he grabbed it hard, nearly crushing her fingers.

"Don't let them catch you." She said softly. "Just run as far and as fast as you can."

The same words that Boromir had said rang in his ears and he watched in horror as her face suddenly scrunched up in terror and pain and she was wrenched through the gap, her screams echoing through his mind and his own conscience screamed in unison.

'_SAVE HER!!_'

But he couldn't. Somehow through the guttural laughs and jeers and the whimpers from his 'sister' another voice whispered. His voice of reason, saying that there would be a greater chance for them both to survive if he just waited for a few more moments…just a few moments. She would kill him herself anyway if he tried any heroics…right before he would probably be impaled.

He crawled to where he could see light spilling through cracks and peered through, biting his tongue so hard he soon tasted blood as he watched the event that he would never forget or forgive himself for for the rest of his life.

There were approximately 6 of them. Towering grotesque monsters with faces all turned towards the frozen female in their midst. One of them was holding her firmly by her arms, his face was bent low over her head and he seemed to be sniffing…smelling her. When his head rose and his yellow eyes seemed to glint as his face broke into a type of grin, Avon's heart froze.

"A she." Was its one sentence as the others promptly threw their heads back and laughed, closing in on their prey and blocking her from view.

Avon was far from reason now. He had vowed to never let something like this happen again and he was breaking that vow. He would break his promise to live to Boromir but it was one or the other…he couldn't stand it anymore and was seconds from irrationally squirming from the burrow and charging when a high pitched squeal came from outside his vision and all heads turned.

There was maybe a second of stunned silence when the one holding Mel barked an order and the rest muttered and grumbled before charging after the one who had made the squeal. It had sounded suspiciously like Pippin, which was probably the case.

Hobbits had obviously more guts than any of them.

Now there was only one and the odds were in his greater favour as he watched the monster slam the slight woman in a tree and lift her up about two feet into the air.

She clawed and screeched as it's body pressed itself into hers and her legs and knees made many contacts with it's legs and other zones that made even Avon cringe. But when the monster did an eerie impression of a laugh and licked its slimy tongue up the side of her face, she froze still with pure terror. Her eyes rolled back into her head and he knew she was now trapped in her nightmarish past when all that showed was the whites and she gave one last scream before going completely limp.

It chuckled once more but didn't get a chance to take another breath.

An arrow was immediately sticking out through its neck, the only un-armoured place on its entire body and the monster gurgled and opened its mouth in shock before it crumpled to the ground, writhing maybe a few more seconds before simply dying.

Avon lowered the bow, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat from his forehead. It didn't occur to him until later that he had done the previously impossible task of firing an elvish arrow from a bloody temperamental elvish bow. Right now all there was, was Mel.

He let go of the bow and ran to her, dropping down onto his knees and cradling her head as she lay where she fell when the Thing died.

"Mel…wake up," he patted her face and leaned closer to her ear. "Come on, you can wake up now. Got some cookies of you do." He had Lembas, but it would do as a cookie for now. "Wake up come on just wake up wake up wake up!" His panic had peaked to almost unbearable heights by the time her eyes fluttered and she squirmed and screeched in terror for a bit before she looked up at him fully and stopped moving.

The relief he felt was enough to simply hold her tight and keep her close as the tears and sobs poured from her very soul. He had promised never to let it happen again, and he had promised Boromir he would live…and he had kept both promises. But would they be enough?

They sat under the tree for an interminable amount of time, just holding each other and trying to come to grips with what had happened and what had almost happened. Time had passed and the distant sounds of battle and a horn were almost unnoticeable until Avon soon realized it was totally silent and his heart clenched.

In the last few hours he had aged ten years in maturity and awareness of what he was now a part of. He had found himself and had also lost much of his old self in the fight for his mind and will. He had also lost much more.

He knew Boromir was gone and for some strange reason…he was content.

"The Ring will haunt you no more." He whispered into Mel's hair and she stiffened, pulling back slightly to look up at him.

"You know," she said. "Legolas said something like that after you fell."

He brushed her hair from her eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah. And you know what?"

"What."

"It doesn't anymore."

He couldn't help but smile slightly. She was right. The Ring was gone and so was all that darkness that had held him down for so many months. Then he burst into tears as grief finally caught up with him and they both cried together, waiting for absolution to what their lives had become and if they would be able to go on after all.

.

Tbc…

A/N: I had a very hard time writing this chapter. It gave me perpetual hell emotionally as well as physically when I tried pushing myself to write it. Hard to believe I finally finished the first book TWO YEARS after starting this thing. I doubt I'll ever be a real writer…I lack the discipline. If reviewing intelligently will help me write more…then I will abide to your wishes.

I have also just figured out something that may help those who query a lot as to what Avon actually looks like, and I found the perfect comparison, Joseph Fiennes. Most well known in the movies Elizabeth as Robert Dudley (Liz's love interest) and Shakespeare in Love as the great writer aka actor himself. Go to http:www. angelfire. com/az/msmossie9z/ fiennes. html …(minus the spaces), to see a picture and just shorten the face a little, move the eyes apart a bit more and voila…Avon comes to life. Hehe, well he IS a live person, Joseph is just his twin.

Mel on the other hand…I suppose you all have your own ideas, but if Gweneth Paltrow was able to look like Master Kent in Shakespeare in Love, I'm sure Mel can look like a young 17 year old boy if she chose to. Not that she looks ANYTHING like Gwen.

****

**.**

**Review Responses: (Actually I'm confused with which reviews go where since ff.net took my AN out. Now all my chapter numbers are mussed…quite annoying. Forgive me if I leave you out)**

Anita: I am a cow for leaving this for so long…seriously yes lately I have been ignoring my folks and have been listening only to my evil little conscience. Tis quite scary though…I'm becoming an emotional sadist. Hehe. Hope you are still interested though…life has been a little hard for me lately so this is the excuse I am using for a late chapter.

HathorCol: I have a feeling you have changed you name on me and so I can't recognize you as easy as I used to. Gnaar. Well anyway yes…Avon is pretty funny looking if you think of the Fiennes that way. But I'm dead serious, they have the same eyes. And I thankyou so much for putting great faith in my writing. Lately it has been on a null and so the re-reading of reviews always boosts me.

Ilwinterhofal: Hehe, I had to giggle at your review as I find it a treat to read fiction too. Never occurred to find out people thought it a treat to read mine…I thought it was merely tolerated. Thanks for the heads up!

Lady Daisy: I am glad you are enjoying it and I hope I haven't lost you. Lets see if you even get to read this chapter…I wonder.

Bulegristwen: Firstly…that's a bloody interesting name. Can I ask where you got it? And secondly I'm actually secretly pleased I managed to give you a twist…it's what I strive to achieve in my stories as allusions to reality are more interesting then allusions to the fantastical. Somehow I come across this format in most modern fantasy…it's a style I'm working on.

Lindiel Eryn: As you can see…I have also managed to give a twist to your perspective. But to make it even worse…did you even see Boromir die? evil grin I'll just let you squirm.

Isarandel: Ohhhh no this fic is still going. I just entered a writing null that went nowhere for…uhm…oh crap, 8 months. Uhm…am glad you read it though. Really I am…uhm…crap.

Hobbitfeet13: I am so glad you reviewed and am seriously wondering if I should sue ff.net. They didn't put your email in so I could contact you to tell you and explain all my answers. Well, for one thing the slash is yet to come…a loooong way from here, and not necessarily in ways you'd expect. I was just warning the more sensitive readers. And hun…don't be depressed. What's coming up later will be even worse I'm afraid so you need to keep happy so you won't fall into a slump by then.

Be well

Vana E


	17. Cultural Saturation

**AN:** Hello there. After years of not writing, I have come back to make a statement and an explanation. In 2004 on October 23rd, my father finally succumbed to a hard fight against prostate cancer that spread through his body at a horrid rate. This affected me so much, that I found that I couldn't write anymore without him complaining about my typing. I would have preffered him being there, than be gone.  
So my muses vanished and it has taken me a long time to get this chapter out due to how much it affected me to even write about grief. Before, when I first began the last chapter, my father was still healthyish. I couldn't finish it till many months after his death and then I couldn't touch it again.  
I soon moved in with my now long term boyfriend and my mother has been back in Australia for well over a year. Then a year ago our pc crashed and took almost all my stories bar this one and a couple of projects. The information is still in the (insert pc gobble here) thingy of the old motherboard, but it needs an expensive professional to get it out which neither I nor my boyfriend can afford.

I now give you this chapter in the hope that maybe people haven't forgotten it and can understand if it takes a long time to complete. I WILL try so hard to complete it. I have a whole base layout made and the ending is written...just dying to get up to it at a steady pace which MAY take near to 50 chapters. Am hoping that will be the case as even though my muses left and I did develop a nasty case of dissociation syndrome, I started this story over 4 years ago, who's says I'll abandon it? I will always be adding more each moment I can for I am now very busy trying to live my life again after two years in rock bottom.

Thank you for your understanding fellow Tolkien fans. Now do enjoy, though I still feel you would like more action, I'm saving that for the times it's REALLY needed. And as for the reviews for the last chapters...I love you, really I do. Whoever you all are, I.Love.You.

**CHAP 17:_ Cultural Saturation_**

They were arguing again. It seemed that all they ever seemed to do anymore was argue…mostly about where to go next and what to bring or not to bring. Or who.

The two others were not a part of it though. Mel had found a tree with some low branches and had curled up in them, hiding away from the troubled eyes of her companions. Avon hadn't even moved from the bank of the river, his eyes still staring at some distant point on the horizon where the mist rose and a light rainbow danced out over the nothingness. The waterfall, the final point he saw the small black spot disappear that was all that remained of his adopted brother.

He was still trying to picture a smiling face, laughing at the joke of rope becoming a dangerous weapon and the anticipation of revenge. The drinking games they shared in the small town bars along their long journey together had bonded them even further and the laughter and joviality of the times that were really only a few months ago. He wanted to remember a time when there weren't so many lines around his eyes and the contemplative chewing of his lip wasn't so repetitive.

Avon's eye started twitching erratically and he absent-mindedly retrieved the bag of herbs that lay in the pack by his feet. The leaf didn't even have a taste anymore and he examined the pouch numbly, noticing his supplies were depleting and his condition wasn't getting any better. It was a worry he wasn't even aware of. Only the sight of that boat going over the falls was taking precedence over his mind and the argument behind him was making no impact on him at all.

Since crying with Mel a few hours before, his face had become stony and not one tear had been shed. He felt cold, lost and very very alone.

He wondered about what to do now. Mel had yet to give him some insight as to which direction was the best. Funny how much he relied on her insight…that insight being from a book that he was currently travelling through step by heart-wrenching step.

"We should go." The quiet voice of Aragorn broke into his thoughts and he looked up, quietly agreeing while thinking of things far off. The ranger's face looked worn and tired as he watched the younger man pack up his equipment and shoulder a much lighter pack. The extra clothing, eating utensils and the broken staff pieces remained on the rivers edge…none of it was necessary, even memories would be hampering to their progress.

The two men then tramped further up the bank, meeting the elf and dwarf under the trees and they all simultaneously looked up into the branches. Avon vaguely saw a foot dangling in the leaves…the others looked pensive.

"She refuses to come down," said Legolas, speaking in such quiet tones that Avon had to strain to hear him. "She has not answered our calls and acts as though she does not hear us."

"But this means we waste time," Gimli scuffed the leafy ground and sounded almost reluctant, "with every moment past, the hobbits get further and further away. We cannot leave them with that scum."

"Says Mr Obvious." Avon muttered, and ignored the glare the dwarf shot him as he studied the foot above.

The elf continued to peer into the tree. "Maybe we should let her be…"

"You mean leave her out here by herself?" Avon stared at him, stunned at such a suggestion. Legolas' eyes flickered slightly in irritation over the interruption, but he continued.

"I was meaning," he started slowly "that we should let her be and let her follow us when she feels fit."

"You mean, using her human puppy instincts." The young man let his face show just how…well…not pleased he was at that suggestion. "To make her feel as though she has to follow us in order to have her owner's approval…yip yip yip!"

Avon's hound impressions did very little to lighten the atmosphere.

"I say we let her be and get on with it. She's safer here than chasing that hoard in any case." Gimli's gruff voice sounded impatient. But due to the lack of logic running through Avon's mind at the time, he didn't take the well meant statement as it was.

"I see…so it's 'leave the weak to chase the weak' right. And then what huh? No direction, no place to go…and with those bloody monsters still roaming. Not a chance in fu…"

"Peace dammit!" Aragorn had had enough. The younger man shut up quickly and all heads turned towards the future king. Aragorn looked thoughtful and quite annoyed.

"We'll move on in five minutes," he finally said. "No more no less. And in that time we will gather what we need and pack lightly. Know that we will be running, not walking to catch up with those monsters so keep up or stay behind. And try your best to hide the traces of this camp. I fear we are now chasing those who were once chasing us, and they were fast, very fast. Now they are no longer behind us maybe this 'cleaning' will seem futile if only to fill up those five minutes." He said the last sentence with a slightly more clearer voice, the sound carrying up into the branches of the tree where someone stirred in discomfort.

The elf and dwarf gave the tree one last look before moving away, not daring to dispute Aragorn when he was in this mood. The man then turned to Avon and stared into his eyes.

"Remember, five minutes. Us three will go then and what you do now decides whether you come too." He gave Avon a hard stare before turning on his heel and joining the other three in preparations, leaving the younger man staring up into the branches despondently.

"Come on, Mel. You can't stay up there forever."

"Yes I can!" was her short reply and some leaves rustled.

The was a moment or two more of silence before she spoke again, this time quite subdued.

"I can't face them."

"Why not?" Avon moved closer to the trunk and peered up into the leaves. He saw her foot dangling. He could almost hear her shrug.

"Because. They don't know why I freaked out like that and no one's going to tell them. So how does brave little Mel look like now huh?" She moved down a couple of branches so he could see her face. She looked so old and sad that it only made him more depressed. "And they're running, Von. Running the whole way to Rohan. It's a week long trip and they'll do it in three days and they have the fear of losing the hobbits driving them on.

"We know they will be safe. We know Treebeard will look after them so we haven't got that edge. Plus..." her voice sounded strained for a bit, then she sneezed. "I'm still sick." She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

It struck him then that it really wasn't over. That they weren;t even halfway till the nightmare was over. Nothing was finished and it only opened a new book...in the most literal sense possible. He bit his lip in contemplation.

"What if we just try it. It's cross-country; can't be too different from home." He looked at her hopefully, remembering his highschool years of races and even the darker moments when he chased a kid round a public pool. The kid was literally running for his life and the terrified look on his face bore testament to that fact. He shook the memory off and turned his attention back to Mel.

"Like a..an Iron Man run huh?" She started lowering herself out of the tree.

Avon made room for her as she dropped the last few feet. "Think of it as a Man...human vs Ultra Man, Pansy Elf and Red Dwarf." He patted her on the back as she bent to gather her things.

"We'll show them." she said, hitching on her pack and smiling slightly. "We're just as good as anyone in this place."

They walked together then up the slope to the crest where Aragorn was waiting for them. The Elf and Dwarf seemed to have smug faces when the two came upon the group and Aragorn himself had an interesting, yet annoyed scowl stretching the corners of his mouth. When Legolas commented softly, 'I told you so', Aragorn's scowl got quite a lot deeper and he gruffly nodded his head at the horizon and started to jog.

Avon took a last look, before he and Mel followed, at the spray of the waterfall and the eternal rainbow stretching out, glittering in the sun. He then looked at the sky and wondered for the first time in a long time...was there a heaven?

-------

The first night was almost over. Avon didn't notice. All he could see was a lengthening tunnel of darkness where no stars shone and his mind was completely numb. They had stopped for a bit because Aragorn was trying to figure out which way to go, and it didn't look like Mel was going to make the journey any shorter by telling him. He could hear her harsh and rattled breathing even through the haze of exhaustion and he discovered what he had known all along. They couldn't do this. And if they kept it up, it would kill them.

It seemed only moments before Aragorn called out that the rest was over and they all headed in a northerly direction. Avon was happy that they weren't running much anymore or climbing over anymore bloody cliffs. They were going parallel to them instead through a long gully that ended in orc bodies. Once he might have thrown up at the sight of dismembered bodies and black blood, but now he just stood there silently and kept his shaking legs locked and an arm around Mel's shoulders. Her breathing was getting worse and sweat was pouring of her face, but she still kept her mouth shut and didn't offer one inch of advice to their fearless leader.

A few hours later, they had reached a stream and found more tracks...but it was becoming clear finally that he and Mel just weren't able to make it. She collapsed and drank thirstily from the water, before turning her head to one side and passing out. Avon slumped next to her and pulled her back a bit so her hair wouldn't get any wetter, but her breathing of rattled wetness and occasional coughs told him it probably wouldn't make any difference anyway.

"We need to make a choice now." Said Aragorn, squatting next to them and staring into Avon's eyes and lightly rubbing the back of his hand over her face. "You need to make the choice, but remember what we are running for."

The younger man nodded tiredly, not bothering to wipe the sweat that was stinging his eyes and pouring off his chin. He knew it was hopeless from the start, but they had just kept on trying and trying and their bodies had suffered for it. His throat had become swollen, his foot had spiking pains shooting through it along with his vision blurring at the edges. Mel's breathing was short and, as described before, watery, as though she was suffering from a rampant asthma attack. The shock of everything was still cold in their veins...they would be left behind now and he didn't begrudge the others for it at all.

He heaved himself up and stood shakily before them. Legolas stood on a small raise in the ground a few meters away and watched him with sure piercing eyes that seemed to be stripping him bear. The dwarf leaned almost nonchalantly against his axe but at the same time seemed to be sneaking glances at him with questioning looks under furrowed brows.

"We'll separate here. I guess that's it for the Fellowship then...see you in the afterlife?" He smiled shakily and tapped his sword with his hand. "Got handy Anduril here to keep me safe huh."

The dawn light was warming the back of his neck and he could tell it was going to be a day of more sweat and pain than he could handle...if they continued like this. Aragorn smiled tiredly and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"My hope is that we shall meet again long before that." His eyes then wandered down to the sword, before shooting back up and giving Avon a hard look. "And I want to see that sword again, it is not yours to keep forever. One day I shall ask for it back, and you will be able to give it to me freely and not from your deathbed."

Avon straightened his shoulders before the older man, seeing something flash behind his eyes. The flash had given him another premonition about Aragorn's future as king and he was getting the feeling that he was becoming a patriot.

Forcing himself to keep standing, he said his farewells with the dwarf and elf while the older man took care of Mel. She wasn't looking like she would wake up too soon, so he arranged a type of pillow for her head with her bedroll and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He smiled sadly and stood up, noticing Avon squinting at him from the corner of his eye while he had pretended to listen to anything Legolas or the dwarf had to say. Both of them were not too insulted by it and merely patted him on the shoulder and back respectively and moved aside for Aragorn to retake his position in front of him. The man then did something Avon almost freaked at, he put his hand on the back of the younger mans head and brought their foreheads together as he muttered something in elvish before pulling away.

Avon tried not to twitch too much at it, and gave his own blessing in return. Putting his own hand behind the man's head, he reared forward and clonked their foreheads together with a rather painful cracking noise as Aragorn stumbled back and held his head in shock. The younger man winced and rubbed his own forehead lightly, shooting a small smile at him.

"Mel used to do that all the time to a friend of hers because he couldn't stand being hugged. It was their form of greeting...I just thought it would be an appropriate goodbye from the both of us."

Aragorn merely blinked, then a matching smile spread across his face. "You are very welcome."

"Of course it would be Mel who'd do something like that. Why else would the sun rise every ruddy morning?" The dwarfs gruff voice made short work of his headache and Avon laughed a real laugh for the first time in so long, which in turn relaxed the others considerably. He sobered up quickly though and nodded to them.

"You better get a move on. Got hobbits to save."

Aragorn tipped his head at him, Legolas did the same along with a small bow and Gimli gave him a quick salute before they all turned and jogged off along the rocks and gradually dissapeared in the distance behind some boulders.

It was a few minutes more before he let his legs finally give out and he flopped down next to Mel, clumsily stroking her hair before letting his hand fall back in his lap. He stared out over the horizon and let his mind wander. Where were they? What would happen from here on? They were finally disconnected with the book and were now two strangers, lost in a world of myth and magic that had become part of their lives for the better part of a year...and would be their life probably to the end. He couldn't stand not knowing anything as he knew their lives since they came here till now had run along a linear story, a story that had already happened. And that brought into itself some grounding of sorts and a way to avoid things they knew would come.

That was till now. Now he had to wait for Mel to be strong enough to maybe give some advice as to what direction to go in. They couldn't go back to Minas Tirith, not now that Boromir was gone. Dead, Boro was dead. The thought brought a lump to his throat and he let one tear drop from his eyes before he roughly wiped it away. He was sick and tired of feeling so damned emotional and he was too old and had experienced too much to cry at every sad memory, no matter how recent.

He watched the sun climb over the ridge and timed it to be about an hour later before Mel finally woke up and blinked groggily up at him.

"What time is it?"

He looked down quickly and smiled. "Time to wake up I guess."

She merely grunted and accepted his hand, hauling herself into an upright position. She then simply sat and looked around, staring at the sky for a short while, then looked at the horizon for a bit longer. After a few minutes she looked back at him and shrugged.

"West."

Avon didn't question her, neither did he wonder why she hadn't asked about the others leaving. He just accepted it like he always did and stood slowly. He then looked down at her.

"You coming?"

"Slowly. Just...slowly." She bit her lip as she stood, obviously feeling the effects of what the run had done to her after so long in the boats. Then, after doing what seemed to be a crescendo of cracking motions with her back and neck that would put any arthritic patient's teeth on edge, she straightened up and looked a bit surprised at his pale face. "What's the matter?"

He just shook his head quickly and made sure everything was attached to his person. He could never really tell her how much it bothered him to hear bones and tendons unnaturally snapping back into place. And for her today, her spine could pass for a maraca.

They walked a steady pace for the remainder of the day, mostly keeping the motion going as they knew they would not be getting up if they stopped before it was really dark. But at least they were keeping to their own speed and no longer had to worry about what might be chasing them, or what they might be chasing. Nothing on their person was of any value to anyone, and being hunted wasn't a concern at all. So they just kept walking and had a long time to simply think.

Then night fell, and they had to stop.

"What about being a sheep farmer. I could pass for that right?" Avon pulled off his boots and arranged his sleeping matt and Mel's so they could snuggle up together for warmth. "That or an actual shearer, then I could be hired on any farm at any time. Does pass for good competition if I become real good."

Mel simply grunted and chewed on a ration of waybread slowly, staring at the light blue line on the night-time horizon.

He sat down behind her and started rubbing her shoulders, trying to massage the kinks out when she pulled away and arranged herself a couple of feet away from him. He simply shrugged and started laying out the blankets.

"Of course, I COULD be a medieval cowboy. Rounding up their livestock and spending months out in places like this alone, or maybe with a couple'a mates. Not likely I'll be missing out on much; syphilis and leprosy. Probably safer out here with only the risk of random orcs and sheep bandits," he pulled out his sword and sprang to his feet, giving a few experimental jabs to the air. "But I can take them on any day. Just give me five minutes alone and WHAM!" He stamped hard on the ground, only causing the woman to flinch a bit. She then gave a violent sneeze, but he got no other reaction, and so he continued talking. "Hey, I've faced plenty orcs, dead dwarves, raging rivers, dangerous places, caverns and pits and..."

"Just shut up ok. Just shut the fuck up!!" Mel suddenly turned and glared at him, rubbing her nose and sniffing. "I don't want to hear anything more about the future you think you're going to have here. Coz I just know we're not going to have it! We're doomed to forever be thrown into some STUPID adventure, to risk our necks for a world we don't belong to and to try to NOT screw up the rest of this fuckin lifestyle ok!!" She then gave him another pointed glare before shuffling to her bedroll and curling up under the thin blanket and her cloak.

Avon though, had been shocked into silence by hearing...well...his language coming from her mouth. It wasn't something he ever expected to hear in this lifetime and he had become frozen in mid sword-jab while she ranted.

It was only when she had been laying down for a few more minutes that he dared to come close and settle down next to her. It was another minute or two before another body-wracking sneeze erupted from her and Avon tore some pieces from his blanket to give to her as hankies.

After blowing a couple of times, Mel just sniffed and laid back down with her back to him.

She then sniffed. "Allergies". Was all she said, but it was enough and the tense ice was broken as he took that as an invitation to finally get close, snuggling up and spooning behind her with his arm around her waist. At one time they both might have thought this to be an act only suited for people 'intimately involved', but for now, he was allowed to just be free and she no longer had any problems with her bro to be keeping her warm at night.

Meaning really, who was there to judge them?

-----

This story has been edited. A lot from the bottom half belonged to the next chapter and I stupidly didn't realize this till AFTER I posted the next chap. So now the repeating bits are removed and where they belong...in the NEXT chapter. -sigh- damn mistakes like this make me wonder if I should stop smoking. hmmm.

**AN:** Reviews WILL make the next chapter come out faster. I think I'm just seeing if I'm still ok in writing, like a confidance boost. Am one scared fanfic writer right now. Negative or positive, they all help. Flaming without reason is still in fashion I heard, so if that happens...well...it happens.


	18. Memories and Secrets

**Chap 18: Memories and Secrets**

"Mel, this is bad right?"

"Oh yes," she sneezed involuntarily, but still gripped her staff like a lifeline, "very bad".

Avon tried not to flinch at the spearheads inches from his throat and also tried to figure out why this particular thing had gone so terribly wrong.

They had been walking for days, three, maybe four, and were still drying out from their little trek across the "stream" when this had happened. The stream had some potholes that they had fallen into that came over their heads and had made them both look like bedraggled rats, but did it really make them look like the Wild Men that these guys were accusing them of being? Did he really look that bad?

He had tried telling them who he was, but apparently they were either not in the mood for listening, or these riders really were too suspicious for their own good. And they wouldn't even let him speak to their leader who was just standing over there...just over there. All he had to do was...a spear blocked his way and he backed up again, trying to look apologetic and still trying to catch the eye of the leader.

Finally after some very tense moments, the leader finally broke off the discussion he was having with his Second it seemed and came towards them. The circle of horses parted and some spears lifted to give him space. If he was really able to take proper notice, the discipline would have made him make a very positive statement...in any other circumstance of course.

"So, what is your purpose here so close to the walls of Edoras?" The Leader spoke very frankly and looked them up and down, his only reaction to their appearance was a slight raise of the eyebrow which seemed to remind Avon comically of Hugo Weaving. He got impatient pretty fast too. "Well? Speak up!"

The eyebrows were now creased into a scary representation of Gandalf and Avon could only blurt out one word...which also somehow coincided directly after Mel's exclamation.

"Fellowship!" She said.

"Eomér?" Avon questioned, and both looked at each other in surprise. But then quickly looked back at the Leader.

Said Leader blinked at them both, then he seemed to be studying them more closely before his eyes widened and he called out to one of his men in a language that soundly strangely like Welsh and Irish combined into one muddled, yet smooth mess.

The spears withdrew and within a few minutes, and scurrying, around a spare horse¹ was brought forward and the now identified leader, Eomér, was off his and holding out his arm to Avon. The young man took it and they did that warrior grasp thing that, so long ago it seemed, was once so amusing to him. Now he didn't give a rats arse and was just happy to see a friendly face.

"God it's good to see ya, man!" Avon grinned as Eomér almost smiled.

"As it is you. We all feared we would never hear your singing again."

The man's comment made Avon's face bright red and he tried to block his ears from the snickering around him. He knew they weren't being mean about it, but he wasn't looking forward to any further remarks on that particular embarrassing subject.

Mel leaned close to his ear. "Singing?" She sounded amused.

Avon groaned and sighed, then replied softly. "Say one bloody more word about it and I'll tell them about _your_ escapades.

"You owe me." She sounded damn sure about that one, and they returned to the world around them which consisted of curious faces and too many damn horses.

Eomér waved his hand to the horse and Avon swung himself up without another word. With a little more difficulty, Mel was picked up lightly by one of the men and sat behind him, where she then proceeded to squeeze his waist into oblivion. After a few trots, he was 100 percent sure she was a definite horse-hater and he didn't see how...considering she went to so many damn fairs and even worked in a stable for a month once, just to try new things. But he managed to ignore it once Eomér started explaining things to him as they rode.

"We met your friends a way back, their story coincides with yours but I still do not understand it. Nor do I currently want to." He added, seeing the look the other man gave him. He didn't ask anymore questions, but started explaining some things. "We've been gone scouting for a time now and are finally returning to the Golden Halls to report our findings, but I fear we will again be ignored, as we have been ignored before and after our last meeting. My heart grieves for Boromir, he was a good man and soldier. I am sorry." The Rohan man tipped his head and Avon just swallowed, turning his face to the front where there was, coming slowly into sight, a small town on a hill.

"It's ok. Shit happens."

He could almost hear Mel's thoughts of disapproval and the confusion, then reluctant acceptance from Eomér was almost palpable. But he definitely could feel the distinct increase of pressure over his bladder and he grunted out a pained whisper.

"Forget I ever said that."

"Said what?"

Avon looked over and could have kissed the guy. He had, even after only knowing him a couple of days _several months ago_, still remembered that Avon was really very touchy about tainting their lifestyle with his crude speech. However fascinating they found it, the Rohirrim were much less retentive when it came to cultural saturation than the rest of Middle Earth. You could even call them a bit French in that respect, with a touch of German in there. So dead set against change, they would even dub all movies into their own language before daring to watch them. While on that train of thought, he placed the Elves into the Dutch category, the dwarves into Scandinavia, shoved the rest of the humans down into Spain and put Aragorn on his own little pedestal somewhere in the Australian Simpson Desert, where the dust was as dry as his head sometimes.

Secretly his subconscious set Orophin in Iceland, just to see if the geysers would get him.

His eyes refocussed to suddenly see the walls of the afore seen blip of grey on the horizon very much closer. Now he could even see the soldiers walking along the porch of the massive hall on the very top of the hill.

"Wow." Was all he could say, eyes glinting at the site of so much...gold stuff.

Mel poked him in the back. "I thought you said you and Boromir had been here before, and even changed horses here."

"Nah," he replied and shook his head, eyes still staring as they passed through the gates and started walking their horses up towards the hall. "We stayed with this lot out on the fields and stuff, I never got to go inside here."

It took 10 strange minutes after arriving for them to come to the frightening realization that they wouldn't be given beds or rest after so long travelling. Instead Avon, after barely even seeing the haggard grey king, was being dragged backwards down to the cellars where he was thrown into a room and the thick wooden door was barred and locked before he knew what had happened.

He rubbed at the forming lump on his forehead and winced, blinking through the building haze in front of his eyes. The cell was dark, but at least it was dry and, after a bit of pattering around, he found water and a blanket. But not much else. The floor was stone with straw scattered over it and a single barred window was in his door which, when he looked out of it, only gave a view of a single small torch in a sconce making the darkness slightly greyer.

"Shit." Was all he could mutter and pulled away from the bars, holding his head as a dizzy wave passed over him.

What had happened?

Mel, he saw he getting carried off down another hallway. They hadn't even said anything, just Eomér got yelled at by the hunched guy in black and suddenly so many soldiers were on him...and not the ones they had travelled with. They took his sword. Shit, he thought again, patting around himself in anxious fear. They had also taken all his knives, bow and spear, but let him keep his pouch and...yes, his herbs. Avon's sigh of relief sent out a stream of smokey breath out into the cold air and he shivered, feeling for the first time just how cold it really was down here.

"Avon?" The croaky voice sounded so close and the man's first reaction was to dive for the door to see who was out there.

But the second call of his name made him realize it was coming from the other side of his cell, down near the ground. He shuffled close to the far right corner and put his face near the floor.

"Eomér? That you?"

"Yes." The voice was finally pinpointed to a small two inch wide gap in the wall join between their two cells. Avon could almost see the other man's eye. "That damned Wormtongue has finally won our King over, and this is their thanks for all my years of service." He sighed. "I am sorry...for what I have led you into, my friend."

The young man leaned against the wall and looked sideways into the gap.

"Not your fault. We wanted a bed, you were on your way home anyway. Who could have seen it coming?" Mel, he thought subconsciously. But of course she would never reveal some minor detail like _this_. In another moment he would think her to be a bitch for it, but right now he was simply worried as heck. Where the hell did they take her?

"No doubt your female companion has been brought to the women's quarters, most likely she is now under the care of my sister." Eomér answered his unspoken question in a dull voice. "And don't be too surprised. The Rohirrim treat their women more equally and it is more common to see them in men's garb than in such places as Gonder or over the Western Mountains. And we never throw them into cells, am doubtful any Rohan born could ever do that no matter how poisoned their heart is."

Avon didn't say anything on that, but it definitely didn't stop his worry. He just couldn't get that vision of the man in black looking at Mel with those...eyes...just before he was knocked over the head. Those eyes, that face, he had even licked his lips.

It was too horrible to even consider.

---------

The night was so cold that he simply gave up sleeping early, trying to instead share a bit of warmth with Eomér's air as he huddled in the corner near the gap.

"Sooo, your sister. She's pretty right?"

"If you bring her up one more time I swear I'll figure out how to hurt you without _your_ sister killing me." The horse man growled out and Avon could hear him shift around a bit. The time of night was indeterminable, but they were both exhausted anyway and the chill was just making it that much more unbearable.

"Just trying to make conversation," Avon chatted out through shaking teeth, "not like there's much chance she and I will hit it off anyway."

"I _can_ land punches without leaving a mark you know."

"Hmm, sounds like the Australian Police." The young man pondered.

They sat in silence for a moment before it was broken by the older man's intrigued voice.

"Sounds nasty."

"You get used to it." Avon shrugged, and they fell back into silence again.

Only a few minutes later, maybe more, he might have dozed off, the sound of a large door being unlocked and keys jangling came from down the hallway outside their cells. Avon quickly scuttled over to his thin straw mat, arranging himself as though he was asleep. But he kept one eye open slightly, listening as scuffed footsteps and low talking came closer to their doors, before his was suddenly unlocked. The light from a flaming torch from somewhere beyond it blinded him for a moment, but that was all they needed as hands grabbed at him and shackled his hands and feet faster than he could blink.

Wormtongue's sickly grey face leered out into the torchlight and he tilted it with artificial concern.

"Ahh, we see now what the traitor makes friends with. A wild ranger from the north, untamed, unworthy for our trust, and pathetic." He spat on the floor at Avon's feet and the younger man simply glared and kept his mouth shut.

Grub, as Avon now called him in his head, didn't look to happy of the lack of reaction but seemed to shrug it off quick enough. He turned and started walking down the passageway.

"The woman wants to see you. We've given her five minutes with you alone, you had better use it wisely for it is doubtful you shall have such private times again in the future."

Avon could feel the smirk over the man's face, even though he could only see his back and he stiffened with rage. He jerked at the two men holding him and got a blow to the jaw in response, the third man catching him by surprise that made him see stars for a minute or two.

Grub looked rather amused as they stood there in the hallway, waiting for Avon to retrieve the use of his legs as he was sure the damn guards really didn't want to drag him. When he finally stood upright again, the shorter man walked up close and seemed to look deep into the young man's eyes.

About here, Avon felt the first real tinges of pure fear since he had first dropped into this crappy place. Those eyes had blue fire burning deep back and his voice, his never ending voice seemed to slime it's way into his bones.

"Of course, she is a fine young woman that should acquaint herself well with a man of station and importance, to be a fine wife and her fiery tongue shall be tamed. This is something that holds well with her future. But for you, I fear only death awaits for the collaboration with a traitor of the Mark." He smiled a nasty oily smile that showed his upper gums and turned on his heel, leaving it to the guards to make sure Avon followed.

The young man swallowed past his dry throat and blinked through the cold sweat dripping into his eyes. You bastard, he thought darkly. You evil son of a bitch.

He was dragged on numb feet and eventually passed through the large hall where he had first come in. He momentarily looked around and noticed that even then, haggard and smelly mercenary type guards were keeping an eye on near every corner under the dim light of flickering torches. The helplessness in him grew, but the hate of the man in front kept the thought alive that he would never win, coz Stridey would kick his slimy screwy arse. He remembered _that_ at least from the movie. Who said Mel was the only one to carry some knowledge around in this retarded place?

They soon came to a door that was swiftly unlocked and Avon was pushed through.

"Five minutes." Said Grub, and the door was closed and locked behind him.

He didn't even have time to look around before a figure launched itself at him from the shadows and a sweet smell of flowers reached his nose. He heard something rustling and a distinctly female figure was felt in his arms.

"I need to make sure that you were ok. Some guards said...you were...dead and Wormtongue laughed. He actually laughed." She sniffed, and he felt his shirt starting to get wet. He realized she was crying and held her closer, just whispering words of comfort into her short and...clean hair.

He sniffed again, and let his hands wander for a moment.

"Avon!" Mel pushed his hands away and pulled out of his embrace, stepping back into a small circle of light from a nearby set of candles.

The soft glow illuminated her and Avon's heart gave a little jolt as he, for at least a moment, saw an angel.

Mel self-consciously smoothed out the front of the figure hugging dress, as he now identified as the cause of the rustling, and stared at the ground, shifting her feet.

He was in front of her in a second and tilted her chin up with a crooked finger, staring into suddenly very young eyes in a familiar face. For a moment, he was back in the past when they were both still innocent and even...dating. His lips touched hers, and she responded, letting her hands come up behind his neck and...

Slam! The door was opened and he wrenched away with a gasp, eyes spinning to the shocked face of Grub standing in the hall. The shock melted into amusement, then turned into a thoughtful gaze that wandered over to Mel...and then strayed up and down which made the blood shoot to Avon's face in a hard, hot rush.

"You sick mother..."

A thick hard fist was in his face and he was on the floor, spitting out blood from a cut lip. But hardly feeling any pain. All he could feel was rage. A cold, dark, deep rage that forced it's way into his very being and honed his reflexes to tight points of concentration. He knew this feeling, it was far too familiar to be comfortable, but it still fueled his blows and he got a few very good hits in on the guards around him before they finally got him pinned and more fists were hammered into him.

Mel was screaming in the background, but he couldn't respond as the air was pushed out of him with a sharp hit to his solar plexus and stars danced in front of his one good eye. The other was already swelling shut and other bruises were making themselves known.

Eventually he was pulled upwards and his hair was pulled back, forcing him to face Grub once more. This time he didn't hesitate and spat in the mans face, blood dripping down and making the young man smile in painful, grim satisfaction.

Grub snarled and something flickered in his eyes. But then he seemed to calm down almost immediately and calmly wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve in refined motions, though it still left a grotesque red smear over one eye.

"Take him back to his...quarters. He shall be tried on the morn and hanged like any other conspirator to the Mark...unless," and Avon didn't miss the quick movement of his eyes to the woman to the side, being held by another guard "circumstances change."

Avon opened his mouth in horror, but before he could say anything he was cuffed over the side of the head and the words were lost. Blinking through the haze in his vision, he gazed hard into her eyes for bare seconds and let the new grief swallow him whole. She looked back in pure terror, and could only mouth 'help me' before the door was closed by the silent and malicious hand of the Grub as he locked it from the inside.

------

Avon was thrown into his cell without too much ceremony and the door clanged shut hard behind him. The stomping feet echoed off into the distance and he painfully crawled over to his matt, laying gingerly down onto the lumpy straw.

"Pssst. Avon, are you well?" Eomér had his mouth right up against the crack and the young man turned his head towards the voice.

"Yeah," he croaked, "couldn't be better."

The horseman muttered something under his breath, then whispered out louder. "You're a worse lier than me."

Avon groaned and shifted, wincing in the process and his sharp intake of breath alerted Eomér to his physical problem.

"You are injured! That evil son of a goat!" Eomér swore again and Avon rolled his eyes.

"Fine, you want the whole story. I kissed Mel and now grub is doing God knows what to her and I've been beaten to a pulp for giving a damn. Happy?" He frowned and shifted his eyes to the cell floor.

The other man was silent for a moment. Then he spoke quietly, "I could say words of comfort right now, but they would be misplaced. And as for her being your sister, it has been a doubt in my mind, considering neither of you look alike and you both seem to have a much too familiar look about you for mere siblings..."

"Eomér." Avon interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Shut up." he sighed and settled down to try to sleep.

And Eomér wisely stayed silent as the night passed slowly and he fought sleep. But sleep must have overtook him because soon daylight was streaming through the high bars in the cell and early morning was there. But Avon didn't even bother moving, because all he could do was cry for not even being able to stay awake for the girl he loved. And yes, he was, as usual, always too late to say it.

TBC

_**A/N: I had a HUGE consideration for naming this chapter 'Sap Interlude'. Coz that's what it is...SAP! This is to satiate any romance and drama lovers out there who just love emotional terrorism...also I secretly kinda liked the chapter as it has boosted my inspiration for more action later on. And yes, this is still bookverse. A lot from here on will most likely be very unfamiliar to pure movie-goers, but hopefully then it may prove to be a fresh insight into GOING TO READ THE DAMN BOOKS! -wink- **_

_**Sorry for the semi-cliffhanger...will it make you want to read more? Or quit now due to SAP OVERDOSE!!**_

_**Be well, and THANKYOU for the reviews I have gotten so far. The most recent...to the most distant. I love them all. Thankyou again.**_

**_¹ – In chapter 11, Riders of Rohan 'page 420', of the unabridged version of LotR in the Two towers...Legolas sees the riders from far off and describes them as follows. "There are three empty saddles. But I see no hobbits." Aragorn and Legolas only took two horses. I merely fiddled with what happened to the third and found out with joy that my story was working closer to the setting without being a pure retelling more than I could of ever imagined. Weeee!_**


End file.
